


Fill up My Old Heart

by valammar



Series: Sing With Me [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Chubby Inquisitor, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Laughter During Sex, Plus Size Inquisitor, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Sex Laughter Honesty, Smut, Strip Tease, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, Weight Issues, plus sized inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 24,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valammar/pseuds/valammar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts and drabbles for the curvaceous healer mage and the Commander. NSFW chapters are marked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gifts and Kisses

On the worst of days, the lyrium withdrawals made filing reports a long and strenuous task. On one such day, Cullen was particularly regretting his sluggish pace, working well into the night as each pang in his skull brought forth another wave of nausea. Stubborn and willful, he refused to be a failure. He needed to do better; needed to be better - and if it meant taking twice as long to finish his paperwork, then so be it. 

He could barely hear the knock on the door through the ringing in his ears. 

“Enter,” he said more gruffly than he probably intended, assuming it was a page with another stack of papers. He regretted his harsh tone once his eyes adjusted to the familiar figure before him.

“I saw your candles were still lit,” Neb Trevelyan stood in a simple pale blue wool dress, one she reserved for casual days with no visitors to Skyhold. Cullen loved how it complemented her olive skin and made the light peppering of freckles across her nose stand out. “Long day?”

“I feel as though I’ve barely made a dent in this evening’s reports,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck to alleviate some of the pressure. “But this headache has been particularly persistent…”

“That’s why I came by. I have a gift for you.” He couldn’t hold back his smile through the blinding throb in his head. It was always like Neb to concern herself with the needs of others, even at the cost of her own much-needed rest.

“I assure you, I’ll be fine in a moment. You should go to sleep.”

“You’re an apt tactician, Commander, but a terrible liar,” she retorted. “And I didn’t spend the last few hours crafting for nothing. Now take a seat.” As she motioned for him to sit in his chair, he knew he didn’t have the strength to argue the matter further. 

“As you say, Inquisitor,” he said, taking a seat. Neb moved behind him, revealing the small tincture she carried.

“As you know, I studied healing magic in the Circle. Herbal remedies are just one of my many specialties. This is to help you with your headaches - here, smell it.” She took the cap off of the bottle and held it to his nose. Cullen was instantly struck with the strong notes of peppermint, but it carried subtle floral notes, too, like a spring breeze filtered through a vast field of lavender. It finished with the familiar sourness of elfroot. He felt soothed already.

“And all I need to do is smell this bottle?”

“You could, but it has a more effective application.” She poured some of the tincture into her palm, moistening her fingertips with the liquid. “Close your eyes.”

He did as she asked, and was rewarded with her gentle thumbs massaging the liquid against his throbbing temples. The concoction granted an almost instant cooling effect as her masterful fingers threaded downward, working more of it into his neck and the base of his skull. Within moments, Cullen felt his nausea dissipate, replaced by a soothing tingle. 

“Feel better?” she asked. 

“Mmmm,” he hummed in approval and she laughed.

“If you feel the pain becoming unbearable, a few drops should do the trick.” She gave him a small peck on the cheek and made her way to the door. “I’ll let you get back to work. Do try to get some rest-”

“Wait, Neb.” He rose to meet her. “Before you leave, I have a gift for you, too.”

She smiled. “Oh?”

“Close your eyes.”

As her eyelids fluttered shut, he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her lips. His mouth brushed over hers sweetly, softly, expressing his gratitude with gentle pecks that gradually deepened. He felt what was almost like a purr rumble from her throat as he ever-so-slowly pulled his lips away from hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Any time,” she said, brushing a thumb across his cheek before turning toward the door. She bid him goodnight with a smile.


	2. Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildly NSFW

Cullen, by nature, is detail-oriented; his head a constant checklist of who-went-wheres and what-to-dos. And when it comes to his Inquisitor, every detail of her is emblazoned on his mind:

Her delicate fingers thrumming her harp, her face so serene as she filled their quarters with song. Her chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders, shadowing their delicate freckles. Her honey colored eyes glinting in the firelight. The way her silk nightdress floated over the fullness of her breasts and the dramatic curve of her waist, inviting his hands to caress. 

And her moan. Cullen wasn’t a musician in the literal sense, but Neb was his instrument. He’d play her with his tongue, teasing small notes from her at first, each gasp and pant forming the most astonishing melody. Accompanied by his teeth, gently nibbling, and his rough hands, gripping, stroking, massaging, her mewls crescendo and oh, that sound. 

He memorized every detail, and learned to pluck her strings until she sang, exultant.


	3. Coprolalia - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trespasser spoilers, NSFW
> 
> Prompt: Coprolalia - writing characters talking dirty

They were on each other before they heard the pearlescent door to their palace suite click shut, moaning in harmony between hard kisses and clamoring to caress every inch of one another through their wedding attire. Shoes were strewn in different directions as they fidgeted with Cullen's waistcoat, one pair of hands untying the sash while the other pulled at the golden buttons. Cullen was sure he heard a seam rip - he never _did_ get this jacket let out.

"We don't have much time," Neb said. The excitement of their nuptials did little to drown out the din of Chantry officials, pages and nobles bustling through the courtyard below, a reminder of the political proceedings that were to take place.

Cullen placed a hand to her lower back to pull her close. "We have enough." He smiled as he kissed her soft and slow. He could feel the warmth radiating from her underneath the thick fabric of her gown, the delightful give of her curves. She was home; she was comfort; and she was his _wife_.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

"Well," he replied, spinning her back to him so quickly she gasped, "Slipping this dress off of you, for one." Throwing his gloves to the floor, he made quick work of the gown's pearl buttons, all the while bathing her neck in open-mouth kisses. After undoing the last button, he waited, gently teasing his knuckle up the silken, naked flesh of her spine and reveling in the goose pimples forming under his touch.

"I've spoken my vow to love you for the rest of my days before Andraste and the Maker," he whispered into her ear. He loved how she gasped at just his slightest touch or the heat of his breath. "But I also have my own set of vows, only for you. Does my wife wish to hear my humble supplication?"

She smiled as he said the words: _my wife._ "Why yes, your wife shall hear your supplication in _full_." She playfully ground her hips against his growing erection. _Maker, he loved this woman_.

"All right. Whatever my wife wants, she gets." He slid the dress off her shoulders, peppering the newly revealed freckled skin with tender kisses. "I vow to kiss you, everywhere. Your shoulders…" He pushed the dress further down to the slope of her breasts as his lips continued to her spine. "Your back…" Every pleasant sigh she made urged him further. He wanted to hear _more_.

"I vow to worship all of you with my hands, their every talent at your disposal." He was on his knees behind her, massaging each of her ample breasts as the top of her gown fell to her hips, revealing the dramatic curve of her waist. She was breathtaking: plump and feminine and _gasping_ as his thumbs brushed across her pert nipples. "Do you like that?"

"Y-Yes," she breathed.  

He pulled the gown to the floor and let her step out of it so he could toss it aside. She turned to face him, her olive skin positively _glowing_ in the late afternoon sun shining through the windows. She was standing in only her smalls, her whiskey colored eyes laced with desire - for _him_. _How did he get so lucky?_

"Have I heard the extent of your supplication, husband?" she teased, hooking her thumbs underneath her smalls and sliding them down her legs. He couldn't contain the _groan_ that escaped him at the sight of her, fully nude before him. "Or have you forgotten how little time we have together?"

He was still in his undershirt and breeches, his throbbing cock demanding its freedom. No, no he was far from finished. Throwing his shirt off in a single pull he quickly worked at the laces of his pants, all the while Neb watched him hungrily. He knew the effect his body had on her; it was the same hers had on him.  

"Are you so anxious, my love? I'm only half done reciting my vows." He felt some relief as he finally stripped out of the last of his clothing, releasing his cock. The way she was looking at him now, summoning him further to the bed, had his head swimming like the most delectable madness. Unable to wait, he lunged forward, scooping her up at her waist and depositing both of them on the bed. Neb gave a delighted giggle that made his chest ache.

"I vow to tease you until you are writhing before me." He pressed hot kisses between her breasts, making his way toward her wet center. "I vow to make your legs _tremble_ , to make you _blind_ with ecstasy from the pleasure you allow me to give you."

"Oh, Cullen!"

He was _there_. His aching cock was pressed to the mattress and her legs were spread wide before him. "I vow to taste you as often as you ask; to suck and lick until you're quivering against my tongue and when you're finished I vow to drink all of you and not waste a drop."

"Maker, _Cullen!_ " His audacity was something new, and he felt a sense of pride that he could still surprise her after all these years. He wasted no time in feasting on her - as she said, they didn't have much time. Every pant and moan encouraged him, he lapped harder, circling her clit before suckling it as she keened. Rocking her hips against his face, he knew she was close. In the spirit of trying something new, he added gentle scrapes of his teeth, playing with the pressure as he gauged her reaction.

With the new sensation, she came undone with a beautiful moan, yelling his name so loudly he could hear it echo across the walls of their bedchamber. Her rich, sweet juices coated his tongue and he swallowed it all.

"That was," she was out of breath. "That was quite an impressive supplication, for one claiming to be humble."

He chuckled. "I'm not quite finished delivering my supplication yet." Crawling on top of her, he kissed her hard, joining his tongue with hers and delighting in the feel of her beneath him. He swallowed her gasp as he inserted two fingers into her, stretching her in preparation for his final pledge.

"I vow to fill you with my cock," He pulled them out and positioned himself at her entrance. "…To make you squirm as I drive myself into you. Again. And again." He pushed into her and she _whined_. "By Andraste and the Maker and all that is holy I will make love to you when you want to make love and _fuck_ you when you want to be _fucked_. Those are my vows." He pulled out slowly only to ram into her hard. Pressing his face into her neck he rutted against her, her pleasurable moans drowning out his own. He was hitting that spot deep within her, the one he knew could make her come even harder for him.

As husband and wife, they found their release together, shuddering with a mighty cry. Cullen pushing himself off of her before he collapsed. They stared at each other, completely at peace after their consummation.

"I have heard your supplication, husband, and I accept all terms," she said, smiling.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. "Inquisitor! You're needed in the Grand Hall."

Neb sat up. "I will be there shortly." Turning back to Cullen, she kissed him tenderly. "I have to go."

Cullen cupped her cheek with his hand. "I know. I vow to wait for you."

"And I vow to always return."

 


	4. Odaxelagnia - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odaxelagnia: Arousal through biting or being bitten. NSFW.

Cullen just stared at them, perplexed. Two ivory dice: one labeled with an assortment of verbs that, when paired with the accompanying die reflecting various parts of human anatomy in crimson lettering, became positively salacious. They were seated comfortably on the floor in front of the hearth, Cullen in only his doeskin breeches and Neb in her flowing white silk nightdress – its enticingly low neckline one of his favorite distractions. A tray with a bottle of red wine was nearby, half of it drank by the time she tumbled the dice into his hand from a black velveteen sack. He noticed her grinning.

“What?”

She laughed. “Well, what do you think?”

 _What do I think?_ “Where did you even get these…things?”

“Sort of a gag gift. Bull and Sera got them for me after their ’jaunt’ through the Red Lantern district in Val Royeaux.”

He snorted. “These _do_ seem to have their names written all over them – well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose.” She seemed to be waiting for him to say something specific. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“So?” she goaded.

“…So…?”

“Do you want to try them out?”

 _Do I want to try them out?_ “Maker, Neb, they’re ridiculous! I don’t need to take orders from a pair of dice to know where to touch you. I mean…” He felt his ears blush.

“Oh no, my Commander doesn’t take orders from anyone or any _thing_. Think of them as…a starting point.”

“…’A starting point.’”

“Some _inspiration_.”

“’Inspiration.’”

“It could be fun, Cullen!” She swiped the dice out of his palm and rolled them across their Rivaini rug. “Besides, don’t you want to... _blow_ …on my… _hand_?”

“As arousing as the thought of blowing on your hand is, my love,” he said, leaning toward her to kiss her voluptuous, wine stained lips, “I’d much rather-“

“Uh-uh,” she interjected. “Say it with the _dice_.”

“Oh, for the love of-!” All right, at this point he was too tipsy and she was much too beautiful for him to say no. “Very well, lady Trevelyan. Have it your way.”

He picked up the dice, rattling them in his palm before giving them a roll. He smiled deviously at the result: _Tickle feet._

Neb’s eyes went wide as he reached for her ankles. “No, no, no! Don’t you _dare_!” She tried to scoot away but he was far too swift and far too strong. In less than a second he was gripping her calf and mercilessly assailing the bottom of her foot with his free hand.

“What’s the matter, Inquisitor? Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m only doing what the dice told me to!”

“Cullen, no! Ahh! _Stop_!” She squealed, trying in vain to kick him away.

“All right, Inquisitor,” he said, releasing her. “If you’d rather do things _my_ way now…”

“Oh, you ass!” She sat up, picking up the dice and preparing for another roll. “You’ll pay for that! Just you wait. I’m going to…” She tossed them across the floor: _Bite neck_.

The glint in her eyes made the hair at the base of his skull stand on end. He knew she’d get her reprimands. She crawled over to him, soft curves settling in his lap and briefly took his bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re in for it now, Commander,” she whispered.

She started gently, licking his pulse point. _Any minute now_ , he thought. Then, she lightly dragged her teeth over his throat, softly nibbling her way down to his clavicles, teasing and sucking the salty flesh. Her perfect mouth was so warm, so exquisite that he’d nearly forgotten about her plans…until she sunk her teeth in.

“Ah!” Cullen yelped as she soothed the sting with the caress of her tongue. He’d never been bitten before. _Well, except for that time when my sister Rosalie was four and decided she was going to be a bear_. Revision: he’d never been bitten like _that_ before. It felt…exhilarating.

“Do it again,” he pleaded, much to Neb’s surprise. She obliged, turning his head so she could nibble and suck on the other side of his neck, the anticipation making his heart race. She bit down, sending shocks of pleasurable pain down his spine. He cried out again, this time gripping her hips and lightly thrusting toward her while she continued her assault. Neb took his enthusiasm as her cue to keep going, and she bit into his shoulder while grinding her center against him. Cullen was panting, dizzy from wine and teeth and tongue.  

“Don’t stop,” he said, sliding his hand up her nightdress to cup her sex – hot and sopping through her smalls. Pushing part of her underclothes aside, he ran two fingers across her, massaging them in hard, slow circles while she nipped and sucked his skin. _Fuck_ , she felt amazing, rolling against his fingers and moaning. She was so wet, he knew she was close. He started rubbing his fingers faster and she keened, slamming her head down onto his shoulder.

“Come for me, Neb,” he whispered in her ear. He had a perfect view of her own neck while she writhed against his hand. In his own moment of daring, he bit down _hard_ , surprising them both when she came undone immediately. He continued to kiss at her neck and hold her as she shuddered.

“Well,” she finally panted. “That was…you seemed to enjoy that one.”

He laughed, nuzzling her chestnut hair. “If I recall correctly, my love, you seemed to enjoy yourself, as well.”

“Hmm,” she hummed in approval. “Shall we try another roll?”

“Frankly, Inquisitor,” he said, rolling forward so she landed on her back. He adjusted himself so he rested between her thighs. “I think I’m ready to do things _my_ way.”

She smiled at him through half-lidded eyes. “Fair enough, Commander.”


	5. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cullen takes care of Neb while ill.

While they intended to get away to a quiet inn in the mountains for a week of respite, Cullen knew he couldn't relax until he was sure he'd taken every precaution: extra blankets if the weather turned cold, a few days' worth of rations should they become stranded far from town and spare flint rocks if a fire is required and Neb is unable to sustain one with magic. In some way, composing a list of every possible outcome _was_ relaxing. As a logician, he prided himself in being able to preempt any endeavor that would foil his love's well-earned rest.

What he _didn't_ plan for was Neb coming down with a fever upon their arrival.

"Oh, this is just typical! You were too overworked! I _told_ Leliana that we could have sent soldiers on that last extended tour of Emprise du Lion. Perhaps if you hadn't been exposed to the cold for so long…"

"Cullen…"

He was kneeling by her side so quickly, Neb would have sworn he'd Fade-stepped. "Yes, my love?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'll be all right. I only need my-" she moved to sit up from the bed under the heap of blankets (as well as the inn's fur rug) that Cullen insisted on piling over her when she mentioned that she felt a draft.  

"No, no!" He stood up. "Anything you need, I'll get it for you. Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?"

"I'm _fine_. I only need my-"

"Is it more pillows? Do you want me to hassle the innkeeper for more furs? If you want I could pull the bed closer to the fire."

"Cullen!"

"Yes?"

" _Relax_."

He took a deep breath and let it out in one big huff, running a hand through his hair. "I apologize. I only wanted this time away to give you an opportunity to recharge, and now that you've fallen ill…I ah, I suppose I got carried away."

She smiled reassuringly. "I know you only have the best of intentions. Now, there _is_ something you can do for me…"

" _Anything_."

She pointed to her pack. "In that first pocket is my traveling herbs. I always bring them with me as a precaution."

Of course she would have herbs! Neb was a still a healer at heart. Opening the satchel, he pulled out bottles of elfroot, rashvine and other dried leaves along with a vial of a bile yellow liquid. She then instructed him to combine them in her portable mortar and pestle - a gift from Enchanter Vivienne, it was crafted from cold, smooth white marble.

"That's right, now powder the herbs like so," she imitated a grinding motion with her fist against her palm. Cullen picked up the marble bowl and used all his force to mash them.

"No, no, not like that; you'll separate the natural oils. May I?"

Giving a heavy sigh, he rescinded the ingredients to her, watching her formulate her own medicine with expert precision. Once she was satisfied with the consistency, she motioned for him to give her the yellow vial.

"It's a concentration agent," she explained after she saw his nose wrinkle in disgust. She poured the vial over the herbs and Cullen could hear it bubble.

"And…" he gulped. "And you're going to drink _that_ and it will cure you?"

She laughed. "I _am_ going to drink it, but not like this! In my pack, there are some sweet mint leaves and orange rind. Boil them into a tea and I'll show you how to distill the medicine with it."

"And _then_ you'll drink it and it will make you better?"

" _Then_ I will drink it and it will make me better, yes."

"Oh. Good." He hung their cast iron kettle over the fire and prepared the sweet mint. Once it was done steeping, he did as she instructed and combined the boiling tea with the medicinal sludge, straining it through a cheese cloth until it formed a smooth, milky consistency.

"That should do it," she said.

It smelled bitter. "Wait!" He dashed to his preemptive pack, taking out a jar of honey to sweeten it. Only when he was convinced it was almost as sweet as Neb did he finally offer her a glass. She only shook her head, laughing to herself. He watched her sip, waiting for its magic to take effect.

"Cullen, I need one more thing from you."

"Of course."

"You've been fretting over me for hours. Sit with me. _Relax_."

He blushed. "I'll be the first to admit that your well-being has a tendency to make me a little frantic, but if you insist that me joining you in that bed will ensure your recovery-"

"Oh, most assuredly!"

"Then I think I can handle a few minutes of relief," he said, laying down on the other side of the bed while she finished her potion. "Feeling better?" he asked, brushing his knuckles over her cheek.

"Much."


	6. Matching Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Neb surprises Cullen with sexy lingerie. Set in my Sing With Me modern AU. Mildly NSFW.  
> Art by the amazing jellopunch on Tumblr: http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/post/135807270613/neb-trevelyan-for-drinkyourjuicerodriguez-now-i

_ _

_Six months_.

Neb and Cullen have been together for _six months_. Their relationship was already lightyears longer than her last – a twenty-minute romp in the dark while an infomercial for Trusty Paragon Branka’s All-in-One Tool Kit played on television – and was the most satisfying by far. She was comfortably settling into a new form of domesticity; one that involved ordering take-out for two and needing an excuse to make the other side of the bed. Josephine commented on how she resonated joy these days, her olive skin renewed with an exuberant glow as she hummed a few bars of her favorite aria over their weekend brunch. Yes, she was happy. _They_ were happy. She felt her excitement bubble up inside her like a freshly corked bottle of sparkling wine until she gleefully squealed in front of her bedroom closet.

Cullen had already arranged for dinner reservations at a luxury restaurant near his posh downtown apartment that specialized in Dalish cuisine and foraged ingredients. She knew they’d find themselves on their way up his place afterward, most likely pawing each other like newlyweds in a giddy, drunken stupor of romantic bliss much to the chagrin of anyone else who happened to be in the elevator with them, but she wanted to contribute to their celebration in her own way. And while her new love had no qualms about her preferred casual dress, after sorting through clothes rack after clothes rack of worn jeans and sweaters, she deemed a new ensemble was a good starting point. If she was going to dine among the affluent, she should do her best to look the part.

“Mrow.” She looked down to see Cole had wound his way between her legs, purring incessantly as his tail wrapped over her ankle like a fluffy white hook.

“What is it, kitty?” she cooed. While she more often than not had another person to talk to now that she was with Cullen, she’d forever insist that her cat had a unique intelligence worth acknowledging – and that he was a surprisingly adept listener and conversationalist. He gave another small _meep_ as he darted down the hallway to his favorite spot on the windowsill. Neb followed him into the living room and found him seated among her succulents, chittering excitedly at something outside. Whatever he saw, be it a small rodent or a bird, was now out of view, but a banner outside advertised that a high-end boutique was having a sale – _a nice place to start_. Convinced the sale itself was all Cole’s doing, she patted him on the head. Whether or not her cat actually had powers of premonition was irrelevant. He was still a good cat.

Shopping was a nightmare for a myriad of reasons, and finding something flattering in her size was almost all of them.  She felt out of place, like a wooden doll in a shop of marble statues. Browsing through high fashion and higher price tags, she glazed over shapeless silken shifts that were best reserved for an elongated, svelte Orlesian woman smoking on a Val Royeaux balcony. Luckily, she found a rather generous plus size section - located at the back of the shop, she noted begrudgingly - but it was generous nonetheless. After squeezing her way through dresses in the fitting room, she decided on a black wrap dress that floated gracefully over her curves while hugging her waist. Wearing such a refined garment made her feel even more insecure in her ill-fitting bra and plain cotton underwear. On such a special occasion, even her unmentionables deserved an upgrade.

Looking through the lingerie, her eyes met with a sexy black set in her size. Thick, satin straps joined a cream floral lace overlay that supported her perfectly. While Cullen never complained about her choice in undergarments either, he had never seen her in anything quite like _this_. The thought of slowly untying the sash on her dress and revealing it inch by inch in front of him, his rough fingers teasing over the seams, made her squeeze her thighs together in anticipation. It would be _perfect_.

And it _was_.

Neb played her favorite jazz vinyl while she primped, humming along to the singer’s throaty vibrato as she pinned and curled her chestnut hair. When she finally saw herself in the full-length mirror, she couldn’t deny that she looked incredible. Her freshly washed skin was dewy and velvety soft; her smoky eyes highlighted their almond shape and the loose, wavy strands of hair framed her face and highlighted her bronzed cheekbones. The dress amplified her dramatic curves and cut low enough to show an enticing amount of cleavage.

And the lingerie was underneath it all – her secret surprise.

She’d just finished slipping into her black pumps when she heard Cullen knock at the door. He had planned to arrive early so they could celebrate with a bottle of wine before dinner. Neb grabbed the handle while leaning on the frame, arching her back and jutting her hip so it exaggerated her figure – it was the only sexy move she really knew.

Cullen choked out a gasp when he saw her, nearly dropping the bottle in his hand. Once he finally spoke, his voice was strangled. “ _Wow_. Neb, you look…” His voice trailed off as his eyes trailed down her body, lingering for a millisecond longer on her very-exposed chest.

“You like it?” She felt giddy, giggling at her vindication and his enthusiasm.

He smiled sweetly, amber eyes meeting hers. “You look beautiful.” Stepping inside, he pulled her closer with his free hand, kissing her tenderly. He smelled like the aftershave he always wore. The fragrance was heady and boldly masculine, like a well-worn leather jacket in a cedar closet. His employer required him to dress to impress, and tonight was no different. The collar on his chalk white shirt was starched and freshly pressed, and his black trousers were flawlessly tailored to hug his long, trim legs and what Neb was convinced to be the world’s most perfect ass.

“You’re looking rather handsome, yourself,” she said, kissing him again. They were left laughing helplessly after they both sighed in unison.

“Happy six months.”

“Maker, six _wonderful_ months.”

They spent the next two hours sipping on red wine to more jazz records, smiling, laughing, and completely comfortable lounging on her tufted sofa. She was beginning to feel delightfully light-headed, tipsy. She felt her color rising, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the way he was looking at her now, stealing glances at her plunging neckline.

“Something’s…different,” he said. He reached out, feathering his fingertips over her clavicles, dipping them lower with each fond caress. “What do you have under there that’s making you look so…?” Once again, his sentence was lost as he leaned forward to kiss her neck. Maker, his teasing. Every lick and suckle from that beautiful mouth was exhilarating. _Surely there was no harm in giving him a little preview?_

“I have something for you. An anniversary gift.”

“Oh?” She felt him smile against her skin. She gently pushed him back and he complied, giving her room to stand. She bit her lower lip – part teasing, part nervousness – as she slowly undid the sash at her waist. Making sultry glances at Cullen, he was fully immersed in her act, eager to see where this was going. Once her dress was untied, she rolled her hips, turning away from him and she could have sworn she heard him whimper.

Her stomach felt tangled like a ball of twine and her heart buzzed in her chest. Why was she suddenly so nervous? She and Cullen had been intimate countless times, yet she couldn't quell the anxiety over turning back around. Perhaps it was because she had never in her life put her body on display as something to be admired. Deciding there was no time like the present to take such a risk, she faced him again, smiling as she revealed soft skin, heavy breasts and generous thighs along with black and white lace. The _noise_ he made was worth every sovereign she spent.

“Oh, Andraste preserve me.” His eyes fervently roamed every inch of her exposed flesh like he was a drought and she was an oncoming rainstorm. Cullen stood, placing his hands on her shoulders, running the rough pads of his thumbs over the smooth satin. Neb took a step back, beginning to tie her dress around her again.

“Just think of that while we’re—ah!” A surprised yelp escaped her as he unceremoniously jerked her hips forward and lifted her into his arms. Neb locked her ankles against his back for purchase and he carried her toward her bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

“Claiming my gift early.”

“But what about dinner?”

“Change of plans. We’re ordering in.”

She giggled as he plopped her on the mattress, still gripped between her thighs.

“You know, I think I prefer it this way,” she said.

Cullen’s hands greedily stroked her skin. “Oh, believe me: I _much_ prefer this.”


	7. Propugnatio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt moved me. An anonymous Tumblr user told me of her past with bullying and wanted a story in which Neb is enduring the same and Cullen decides to take action. I wrote dozens of drafts and was never quite satisfied--some versions were too harsh while others trivialized the severity of fat shaming. I hope I found a good balance.

The agonizing thrum in Cullen's skull consumed his focus and filled his ears with a steady, staccato pulse. Whether his migraine was a result of lyrium withdrawal or the incessant clucking of Orlesian nobles and delegates, he didn't know--rather, he no longer knew the difference.

Marquis Luc Desper was a shrewd man in both manner and appearance. An entirely off-white ensemble amplified his pallid complexion and his stunted eyes perpetually narrowed behind a wooden half mask in a heinous shade of pink that reminded Cullen of putrid salmon. The way his mouth pursed in disgust as the Inquisitor greeted him with an outstretched hand was _already_ reason enough to dislike the man, and the nasal words that followed only served to solidify his contempt.

“Inquisitor! You’re looking…well, it’s nice to know in that in these freezing mountains you’re not _starving_.” Neb gave a small chuckle while he patted her wrist condescendingly.

 _Strike one_ , Cullen thought.

“No, Your Grace. Skyhold is blessed with rich, fertile soil. We are able to grow a variety of lush fruits and vegetables just outside our Chantry. If you’d like, we can tour the gardens after our meeting,” she responded.

The man’s swollen ego overshadowed his diminutive frame. Neb herself was inches taller than him. He came to request aid for his village in the Dales which had succumbed to ongoing attacks from raiders. The Marquis wanted a small battalion stationed at secured checkpoints to deter future devastation.

“We’ll do everything in our ability to aid you, Marquis,” Neb said graciously as she led him to the War Room.

“Such an old castle,” Desper noted. “It’s rather fortunate that the doorways are wide to accommodate _larger_ objects.”

 _Strike two_.

“Oh, yes, Your Grace. We’re very fortunate. We’ve had no qualms about upgrading Skyhold with modern equipment—which, as you can imagine, is rather bulky.” Cullen leered at the Orlesian. It was clear to _him_ how backhanded his comments were, but why weren’t they as obvious to Neb? Why wasn’t she confronting him about it?

They convened along with Josephine and Leliana to hear out his appeal in full. The raiders were ruthless, preying on soldiers’ families while they were enlisted during the civil war. Looking at the map, Cullen could easily spot three effective defense points that would spare the residents while keeping trade routes open. They had been delegating for an hour by the time his migraine had reached its apex.

“We could spare a handful of soldiers to guard its most vulnerable points,” he said, hoping that would be enough to placate him and send him on his way. In his peripheral, he saw Leliana give him a glare. Cullen wasn’t as skilled at controlling his outbursts as the three women around him, and the subtext was clear: _Don’t do anything that would complicate relations_.

Easier said than done, for Desper’s response was less than accepting of their offer. “A _handful_?!” He turned to Neb. “Inquisitor, do you expect me to have crossed treacherous, demon-infested borderlands, across the frozen, mucky mountains only to be told that my estate would be protected by a _handful_ of soldiers?”

“Our troops are very capable, thanks to our Commander’s leadership,” she gestured to Cullen. “I assure you, one Inquisition soldier fights with the skill of three!”

“One? Three? What difference does it make? I asked for a _battalion_.” He threw up his hands. “If this is your interpretation of leadership, I’m less than impressed. Do not expect my endorsement in the coming months.” With that, he stormed out of the War Room.

“Wait, Your Grace!” Neb and Josephine pursued him. Cullen pinched his nose, desperate to redistribute some of the pressure in his aching skull.

 _Strike three_.

“Patience, Commander,” the spymaster said. “This tantrum is surely a bargaining tactic in an attempt to glean more support. If he doesn’t accept your offer, I have a contact who specializes in concocting an itching powder that might persuade him.”

He snorted at her joke as the two of them followed suit. They found the ambassador and Neb pleading with the Marquis to listen to their counter-offer.

“Absolutely not. I’d have had a larger army if I’d hired mercenaries. I’ve no interest in remaining in this decrepit fortress any longer, Inquisitor.”

“I assure you, Your Grace, our soldiers would be far better suited to defend your people—oof!” Neb’s foot caught on a raised brick, sending her tumbling hands-first into the stone floor.

“Hmph,” said Desper, smirking at her. “A pig on all fours. Seems rather fitting.”

 _That’s it_.

Cullen lurched forward and grabbed the Marquis by his stuffed coat. “How _dare_ you!” He growled. “This woman is the Herald of Andraste; the bridge between man and Divine! It would behoove you to pay her the respect she's earned!”

“Commander Cullen! Put him down!” Josephine pleaded, and that was when Cullen noted that in his blind anger, he’d lifted the tiny man completely off of the floor to hold him at face-height. He sneered, setting him back down with a heavy drop.

“If Inquisition soldiers aren’t what you want, than you shall have none.”

“Commander, please see reason--!”

“No! He said it himself! It so happens, we’re planning for an assault in the Western Approach soon. We have no soldiers to spare. Enjoy your sellswords, Marquis.”

Cullen stormed out of the hallway, taking the stairwell in Josephine’s office to the level below. He swore he overheard Desper say something about Neb “controlling her Fereldan dog.” He took a deep breath and ran gloved fingers through his wavy hair. Moments later, Neb joined him.

“Cullen, what was that about?”

“That man is pathetic.”

“He’s certainly…colorful, but—“

“He’s a prick.”

“ _Cullen!_ Why has this gotten you so upset?”

“Because _you’re_ not upset!”

“What?”

“How could you let him speak to you like that?”

She huffed and looked at her feet. “Look. As Inquisitor, I am expected to hear out _everyone’s_ supplications, from the most polite to the unsavory. It’s an expected part of diplomacy.”

“Maker, _fuck_ diplomacy! _No one_ has the right to talk down to you. You are—“

“’The Herald,’ I know.”

“…The most important person in my life.” He watched the color rise in her cheeks as her nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And you deserve better.” He placed a hand on either of her shoulders. Maker, just touching her filled him with a glee he hadn’t felt in ages. He’d already forgotten about his headache.

Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“No, I mean—what he said. About…this,” she gestured to her physique. “I’ve always been this way. After a certain point, you learn that it’s easier to just smile your way through every snide remark. Besides, after facing death and demons for months on end, one nug-sized nobleman calling me fat doesn’t feel as treacherous as it once did.”

“You’re trying to laugh it off again,” he said.

“I know,” she sighed. “This is my burden; something I need to work on. But that?” Neb pointed upstairs in the direction of Marquis Desper. “That’s yours. You need to apologize and tell him he’s getting soldiers.”

“All right,” he groaned. “He’ll get his damned battalion, the raiders will be warded off in a day and then we can put all of this behind us.” He kissed her forehead and headed back toward Josephine’s office.

“Thank you—for standing up for me,” her voice stopped him. “Nobody’s ever done that before.”

Cullen smiled. “I meant it: you deserve better. Though I’ll try not to embarrass you from now on.”

“Still. It _was_ funny the way his feet dangled off the floor,” Neb chuckled.

The next morning, Cullen watched as the Marquis’s carriage rolled out of Skyhold, followed by a well-equipped mounted battalion.

“Everything worked out, I see,” said Leliana, leaning on the wall next to him. “Remind me not to cross you on a bad day.”

“He got what he came for. This morning he told Neb she looked ‘radiant.’ I’m glad to see those Orlesians still respect some good, old-fashioned intimidation in the name of our Inquisitor.”

“It’s certainly a change from the grand Game, though not nearly as poised.” She turned to leave. “I will see you for this afternoon’s report, Commander.”

“Wait, Leliana!”

“Yes?”

“…You said something about giving the Marquis some itching powder…”

The spymaster gave him a sly smile. “I might have.”

“Any chance you could give me your contact?”

“Already taken care of. One of my people paid off his seamstress to sew some into the lining of his smallclothes. He’s in for a rude awakening the next time he dresses.”

Cullen chuckled. “I owe you a bottle of wine, Spymaster.”

“Anything for Neb,” she said.


	8. Ticklish - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut prompt for maddieland-senpai. Cullen and Neb's morning starts out with playful tickling and becomes something a little more steamy. NSFW. Modern AU.

Maker, she’d never get used to this. Neb opened her eyes to the Haven skyline twinkling just outside of the floor-length windows in Cullen's lavish bedroom. The sunrise was only a ribbon of pink underneath a dull morning sky. Skyhold Tower stood sentinel like a shimmering steel beacon.

She snuggled into the man behind her, loving the feel of the hard planes of his torso against her back and his firm arm hugging her middle. Neb's back and legs ached and there was a lingering dampness between her thighs. She hummed in contentment, sticky with sweat from the night before.

It was still electrifying, being in his embrace like this. They hadn't seen each other all week and she came over after her last therapy session to surprise him with dinner. He made love to her on the living room rug…and then once again before bed.

She felt him stirring behind her and he hugged her tighter, peppering the beck of her neck with light, groggy kisses.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured.

She cackled. "Cullen, did you just call me 'sweetheart'?"

"You're right," he agreed, fully stirring out of sleep. "That was terrible. I'm sorry." He leaned over her to press playful wet kisses on her cheek and both of his arms twined around her so he could yank her closer.

“Ack, get away!”

“Hmph. I don’t recall you complaining about me kissing you last night.”

“That’s because your _breath_ wasn’t so awful last night!”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He kneaded his fingers into her sides and she involuntarily squealed. “I’ll have you know your breath isn’t exactly a rose garden in the morning, either.”

“ _Lies_! I’m a goddess, and goddesses don’t have morning breath.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. You _are_ a goddess,” he kissed her neck tenderly, his stubble igniting a trail down her sensitive skin. Between his hands on her stomach and the rasp of his scruff, she couldn’t contain the giggle that gave her away.

His head shot up like an attentive mabari. “…Are you ticklish?”

She pursed her lips. "…No."

He pressed his fingers onto her ribs and felt the muscles tense. "Are you _sure_?" Maker, she could _feel_ his smug grin against her skin.

"Absolutely," she said briskly, holding her breath as those damnable fingers began to knead again.

"I think you're lying," he teased, digging into her flesh earnest until she was squirming to free herself from his iron grip.

"Ha ha! No, stop! _Stop_! Ha ha ha!" Her sides ached by the time he finally relented, sitting up to look at her with an arrogant smile while she scolded him between gasps of air. "You. Are. An. _Ass_."

"That's true. And _you're_ ticklish."

"Fine, I'm ticklish. Every goddess has her weakness." Neb backhanded his shoulder and he barely flinched.

"You have an adorable laugh, you know that?" he said as he slid a wandering hand down the dramatic curve of her body. Her laugh contorted into a moan when he jerked her hips back against his now-hard cock. The sensation stoked her own fire until she felt like she was being immolated; lost in the scalding ebb and flow of each rock of his hips.

"You want to go _again_?" she asked.

"What can I say? It's not very often I wake up next to a beautiful naked woman."

"You're insatiable."

"You're intoxicating."

It was maddening how quickly her body responded to his touch. She was satisfied from last night only moments ago, but his hot breath on her shoulder only made her crave the feel of it along her core. Her clit was already throbbing, _aching_ for the flat of his masterful tongue to drag across her cunt until she arched clean off the bed. 

Cullen lifted her outer leg to drape it over his hips, exposing her wet center. He then sealed his lips over the column of her throat and began to suck. The hand underneath her sought out her breast and it was all she could do but ride out his thrusts with him. He had her completely pinned and vulnerable against him, one hand rolling her nipple into a tight peak, the other possessively roaming over her skin. Neb was unafraid. No matter his past trauma, the man would never-- _ever--_ harm her.

"Cullen, _please_ , I need--" her words trailed off as two of his fingers traced across her aching slit in time with the unceremonious buck of her hips. It was _so good_ , it was _always_ so good - the way he worshiped her - that she could never keep quiet. When those devious fingers massaged her throbbing clit, her whimpers transformed into pleasurable cries as she succumbed to his ministrations.

" _Fuck_ , you're so beautiful," he croaked. "I love you so much."

She was _right there_ \--right _fucking_ there when he withdrew his hand. Neb cried out but her voice was lost when moments later she felt the velvety stroke of his cock at her entrance. At that moment there was no word other than _yes_.

He'd wound her coil so tightly that the moment he hitched his hips and slid into her unresistant flesh, she came. He held her together while her body began to unwind against his, convulsing with each powerful thrust. Maker, she'd never get used to this; the _feel_ of him pulling out only to ram into her again, _again_ ; his shaky groans; the _sound_ of skin sliding against skin. Cullen could turn her into a wordless, breathless mess that crested over and over.

Neb was still coming down from her first orgasm when the second hit her--smaller than the first, but nevertheless perfect. Heat unspooled from her, coating him as he continued to pump into her, driving her against the rattling headboard. She could feel his powerful body tense as he plunged into her harder.

"Come for me, Cullen," she mewled, reaching for his head to soothe her hand through his sweat-slicked curls. That was all he needed, and he cried out her name, muffling his strangled gasps against her back.

He hugged her tightly as if she were about to fade away while their breaths normalized. She claimed her leg back from his hip and rolled over to face him, wriggling over to rest her head on his chest and free his other arm. He smiled, blissfully content, and their lips met in a languid kiss.

"I love you," she said and he hummed back a response, still coming down from his high. They cuddled together, Neb lazily stroked his chest, playing with the golden hair along his stomach when she a tiny twitch in his abdomen caught her attention.

" _Wait a minute_ ," she exclaimed. "Are _you_ ticklish?!"

Cullen's eyes grew saucer wide as he sat up in an attempt to push her away, but to no avail. "I'm--! No! Neb--you…you stay right over there! No, _no_!" She lunged for his midsection, tickling him without remorse. While she might admit that she tortured him longer than he did her, she'd also never heard him laugh so joyfully before, push her off so playfully, or smile so freely.


	9. Elephants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was from oblivionscribe on tumblr, based on a "Text From Last Night": According to google history I spent most of last night trying to buy an elephant.
> 
> Set in my Sing With Me AU, Neb gets high.

Neb was getting pretty accustomed to being the third wheel. If spending time with Josephine meant many late nights lounging among Leliana’s embroidered pillows, on her down feather sofa that probably cost more than her car, drinking expensive imported wine while the redhead cradled her best friend’s hand in her own as if it were something infinitely precious, then so be it. 

She felt her color rising as the velvety red coursed through her, making her feel light-headed and tipsy. She sunk deeper into the cushions, smiling contentedly.

“Did you care for the wine, Neb?” Leliana asked. 

“Mm, it’s delicious. It’s better than the cheap ‘Willowy Wench’ I usually drink, anyway.”

“What did you like most about it?” 

 _Shit_. Leliana was a passionate oenophile, whereas Neb didn’t know anything about wines past the bargain section of the liquor store. “I liked the, uh…big  _main_  flavor, with the hints of…the…uh…smaller ones.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Leliana!” Josephine intervened.  _Thank the Maker_.

“I was merely curious, Josie. If you’d like, I have something special to lighten the mood…”

Despite her poised demeanor and impeccable taste in furnishings – and wine – and women, if Neb was being honest, Leliana showcased an adventurous spirit. She was quickly learning that Josephine did, as well, upon hearing her gleeful squeal when her girlfriend revealed the plastic bag.

“A new hybrid elfroot, harvested in small batches from deep within the most remote regions of the Dales,” she presented the green herb. “ _Very_  expensive.”

The two women wasted no time in enjoying it, filling the room with ashen smoke that smelled faintly of freshly mowed grass. 

Josephine took a drag and handed it to Neb, revealing something new on her wrist.

“Josie, did you get a tattoo?!”

The raven-haired Antivan giggled. “We got one together, see?” They each held up their wrists next to each other to reveal a complete arrow. Josephine’s tattoo composed the pointed head while Leliana’s was of the feathers. Neb continued to lay there with what was probably a dumbstruck expression. Her life was composed of a crowded home, music lessons, fervent prayer and quiet, lonely nights – a pattern from which she never entirely deviated. Watching her  _attorney_  best friend smoke root with her tattooed girlfriend while flaunting her own new ink was about as wild as she’s ever gotten.

“Would you like to try some?” Josephine repeated, offering her again.

This was her chance to be bold; to try something new. She  _wanted_  to. 

“All right, I’ll try it. Do I just…suck it in, or what?”

The two women only laughed.

* * *

Her head  _ached_. Cole paraded around her languid form, mewing, and she realized she was nestled - rather uncomfortably - on her stomach in her own bedroom. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.  _How did I get back here?_  The rest of the evening was a blur of liquor and smoke. All she could feel now was the staccato pulse in her skull and the raspy dryness in her throat. 

Neb rolled over and her hand landed on something hard and plastic. Her laptop was left open containing multiple search tabs:

 _elepahnt buy now_  
_how to bu y elephant_  
_honky trunk trunk buy now_  
_how much food do elephants eat_  
_can an elephant fit in my apartment_  
_save the elephants foundation_  
_save the elephants membership_

Her phone buzzed and she picked up to see a new text from Josephine. J _ust checking to see if you were doing all right! It was quite a struggle escorting you back to your apartment. We had to wait in the hallway until you stopped crying about endangered species._

Neb chuckled and typed out a response.   _According to my search history I spent most of last night trying to buy an elephant._

That was when she decided to check her email and saw a confirmation that made any remaining color in her cheeks drain:  _Thank you for your generous donation to the Save the Elephants Foundation!_

…She’d given every last sovereign in her bank account away to charity.


	10. Hidden Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Neb's hidden talents is the ability to undulate her stomach like a Rivaini dancer. commander-cully-wully prompted me on Tumblr to elaborate Cullen's first impression of this.

They were only mere colleagues when he first saw her dance.

Sera insisted he convene with her and Blackwall that evening in the tavern. Buying him drinks was her way of apologizing for the now-infamous incident in which she hid a beehive inside of his office training dummy. While the original had long since been incinerated to ash, the stone walls still echoed with the memory of that pestilent hum. She’d assured him that the prank was necessary; that it was beneficial for his soldiers to see their Commander fleeing a stinging onslaught as a means of recognizing a core member of the Inquisition as a cultural equal – though she didn’t explain it in so many words.

That was then. _Now_ , Sera was pleasantly inebriated and proudly displaying five empty flagons in a row in front of her. Blackwall looked equally as drunk in the chair next to her. He was in only his tunic since his blonde friend appropriated his gambeson to use as a folded up pillow.

Cullen stared at his own ale, paying particular attention to a drop of condensation cascading from the rim to the knotty wood. He wouldn’t have obliged Sera if he had known in advance that the Inquisitor would be sitting next to him, yet there she was: the Herald of Andraste, slouched over the table, resting a kissable cheek on her bent arm, hair falling from a messy bun in wavy strands. Her skin was dewy from too much drink. She looked implicitly human. It felt almost sinful to see her like this, like _Neb_ rather than _Inquisitor_ , smiling and relaxed. She took on her role with more poise and grace than he thought humanly possible, which gave her divine title even more credibility.

“So, Inquisitor—“

“Cullen, _please_. Call me Neb when we’re off-duty.” She was so welcoming, so _kind_ it almost pained him. He didn’t deserve to be there with her like this, talking like close friends, but she stared at him expectantly.

“All right…Neb.” It even felt unholy to speak her name. “I wanted to say that I’d been reading over Rylen’s report on the restoration of Griffon Wing Keep…”

“Too. Much. Talking.” Sera indignantly interrupted. “Less soldierin’, stupid. More drinking. _Who wants to see me pop my whole fist in my mouth?_ ” Blackwall laughed heartily at her attempt until it resulted in her wiping off a drool-covered hand on his armor.

Neb chuckled and it was warm and vibrant, like liquid gold. Cullen knew he shouldn’t think that about her, but ever since she played chess with him in the gardens, he couldn’t shake the fantasy that there could be something _more_. _We should spend_ more _time together_. She was smiling at him now and shrugged at her companions. “So, this is what we’re like when we’re not out sealing rifts.”

“We get pissed and Sera displays one of her many rare talents,” Blackwall said.

Sera was laying her head back down on the gambeson, only now she stared directly at Cullen. Her grey hazel eyes bored into him like – well, a bee sting. Cullen had to be careful around her. A thief as competent as she had to be perceptive by nature. She knew. Of _course_ she knew, and she’d use it to get a rise out of him. “Not the only one with talents, Beardy. Our lady Trevelyan has a few, too.”

Neb choked on her ale. “What _are_ you on about, Sera?”

“ _You know_ ,” the elf said slyly.

“What, you want me to sing? I hardly doubt Cullen would want to hear—“

“Shut it, Neb! Do the weird thing!”

“’The thing’?”

“ _You know._ The one where you shake yer bits about!”

“Oh, Maker,” she covered her eyes with her palm. “I have too much of Bull’s liquor at camp and now I don’t hear the end of it.”

Cullen’s eyes were wide. “I should probably get going…”

“No, no, Cullen! It’s not like that! It’s a dance.”

“A dance?”

By this point, Sera was completely intoxicated and rhythmically slamming her hands on the table. “Do the thing! Do the thing!”

“All right, all right! Just this once.” Neb stood up and walked a few paces toward the fire and Cullen caught a surprised gasp in his throat as she unbuttoned the lower half of her linen shirt and tied the stray fabric in a knot at her ribs, showcasing the dramatic slope of her waist above rounded hips. No, she was the Inquisitor, the Herald. He should _not_ see her this way, but he was frozen in place the moment those hips began to sway, her back to them.

She was serpentine, her silhouette blackened in front of the flickering firelight while her curves shifted in time to an unheard beat. Sera was egging her on but her enthusiasm became distant. When she turned and he saw her soft belly undulate like rolling ocean waves there was only his pulse in his ears, his heart in his throat. She shimmied faster, rocking side to side while taking half-steps toward the table. Neb’s demonstration lasted mere moments before she was doubled over, giggling gleefully in embarrassment while Blackwall and Sera clapped and cheered. She was so beautiful, so enticing and so damned _adorable_ , covering her mouth and her stomach with her hands while she roared in laughter.

“That’s it! That’s the last time I do that one, it’s too awkward without music!” she said.

“Well, we better call it a night,” said Blackwall. “Looks like our Commander can’t keep his liquor.”

Cullen was aware of his dreamy-eyed expression and flushed face. He must have looked completely stupefied, but it wasn’t the alcohol. Watching Neb, he’d never felt more sober.

“Ah, yes,” he coughed. “Bit of a lightweight, I’m afraid.”

Sera was still smirking at him. _She knew._ Oh, Maker, she knew. And whatever next humiliating prank she had planned, Cullen decided he’d much rather have the bees again.


	11. Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Write your Inquisitor’s reaction to the tarot card for their race and gender as if it was a commissioned portrait painted by someone who’d never seen them before." from kamikamiya on Tumblr

She sat in her throne before visiting members of the court while well-dressed couriers marched in time, carrying an over-sized rectangle behind a white linen sheet. Josephine was more excited for the big reveal than Neb was, looking overjoyed as her knees buckled, clearly resisting the urge to bounce up and down. The couriers each took a knee, steadying their delivery and the ambassador cleared her throat.

"Inquisitor, this gift came to us as a surprise from esteemed poraiteur _Artiste_."

Neb quirked an eyebrow. "Uh, 'Artiste'?"

"His - her - their true identity is a mystery in Orlais. Known for a unique style, they select their subjects by hearsay, painting portraits in private, having no contact until the finished piece is delivered. To receive a portrait from Artiste is an honor, Inquisitor, and they have chosen _you_!"

With a mighty tug, the linen sheet cascaded to the stone floor to reveal Artiste's interpretation of Neb: full, flowing hair, silver armor, a slender build, a mighty staff and clear, moon-white skin. It looked nothing like her. No freckles, no plump flesh - as if her entire identity was replaced in the name of some ideal. The hall was soon a din of _oohs_ and _ahhs_ before bursting into applause.

Josephine wasn't free from her own gleeful expression. "Oh, Inquisitor, it is marvelous, is it not?"

Neb didn't know what to think. The premise confused her as it was, let alone the final result. A mysterious stranger paints what they _think_ someone might look like based on gossip and then anonymously delivers it to them? Is this waifish heroine seen as the better woman to lead an army of the faithful? Is this how her subjects think she _should be_? Would this be image all that remains of her legacy when she crosses the Veil and joins the Maker at his side? Regardless, Josephine had instilled months of rigid training into her receptions, and she did not want to disappoint her spectators with a begrudged response.

"Artiste's whimsical styling knows no bounds. We'll hang the portrait in the antechamber outside the Skyhold vault. Josephine, let us arrange for a proper unveiling and reception for our guests."

Josephine smiled proudly, "At once, Inquisitor."

Neb stood in front of it long after the party dwindled. Servants were clearing the remaining empty glasses and deconstructing the buffet table. She heard someone shuffling to stand next to her and she recognized Cullen's familiar maroon cloak.

"What do you think of it?" she asked.

The commander crossed his arms as he reproached it. "It could be worse," he glanced at her. "But it could be better."

"It almost makes you wonder how people are talking about you if this is the end result."

"Orlesian _nobles_ ," Cullen corrected. "Not _people_." He didn't flinch when she smacked his shoulder.

"According to Josephine and Leliana, there is quite a lot of gossip about _your_ appearance circulating the royal court. Who knows, maybe this Artiste will grace _you_ with a portrait next."

"Maker, stop talking before you jinx it," he shuddered.

"I'll hang it right next to mine! Women will come far and wide to compare the portrait to the real man."

"Maker's breath, I'm done listening!" He turned on his heels and briskly marched up the stairs. Neb giggled and gave the portrait one final glance before following him. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, reminding herself that the opinion of one anonymous person didn't matter. She had bigger things to focus on.


	12. Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "May I have this dance?" From oblivionscribe on Tumblr.
> 
> Long after the honeymoon phase of their relationship has ended, and LONG after the events of the epilogue. One-shot, no edit.

The letter arrived on her fiftieth nameday. She was being honored with a lifetime achievement award, taking place at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral.

She signed for the delivery, giving the page a coin for his long journey back to Val Royeaux. Her husband was spending his time in the barn with the dogs, chopping wood. It had become a hobby for him, and Neb was grateful he still found ways to remain active. She remembered Thom, once called Blackwall, toiling away with his ax in Skyhold. There must be something to be said about old warriors finding comfort in the monotony.

The same could be said about marriage. After eighteen years, they'd settled into a comfortable domesticity.

She pried open the royal seal and read it at their desk. The room filled with bright afternoon sun that highlighted her harp in the corner, clouded with dust. While she could no longer play, she was too sentimental to ever part with it. Even Cullen, pragmatic as he was, never once questioned her desire to keep it. The harp was a symbol for her; a permanent reminder of the inevitability of change.

"What is it?" she heard him say as he came in, his linen shirt sullied with sweat and sawdust.

"We're invited to a ball at our favorite venue: the Winter Palace," she said, holding the letter out to him. He wiped his dirty hands on his trousers - a habit Neb hated - before taking it. "Would you care to come?" she continued.

"It says we're the guests of honor?"

"That means we're in for a _lot_ of attention from a _lot_ of Orlesians."

He huffed. "Forget it," he said before turning on his heel and back out the door. Neb merely rolled her eyes. They'd been together long enough that she knew it was all a ruse.

"I'm waiting!" she shouted to him, laughing when he poked his head back around the corner having been called on his bluff. Neb took a small security in Cullen adopting a playful side. Over the decades, his behavior transformed from shy and withdrawn to fiery leader to avid philanthropist to, finally, purely contented. At peace with his life and his past.

"You know I would never throw you to the lions to deal with on your own. Not without protection."

"'Protection'?"

"I am talking about myself, of course."

" _You_? Not my magic?"

"Of course not! Orlesians have no respect for magic whatsoever."

"Even with one arm, I can still whoop you," she teased.

"I'm counting on it later tonight," he teased back. "When should we pack?"

* * *

It had been twenty years since she'd set foot on the marble flooring. Several wings had been remodeled to suit the contemporary Orlesian style, which was no less opulent. She and Cullen were awash with nostalgia as they paraded the gardens before the ceremony, recalling the blood-spattered stone, the murder and intrigue. They’d seen more than enough of it all at this place.

The celebration lingered long after the formal dinner. It felt like ages since Neb last gave an impassioned speech, but she'd managed to showcase her gratitude to Orlais with words, and even with song. In the carriage, she wrote a ballad inspired by landmarks in the Dales. She sang of sorrows and victories. The song marked her retirement. Her own _halamshiral_ , her journey's end. Cullen stood sentinel in the crowd, his familiar presence encouraging her through it all.

That night, she cooled herself on the balcony, reveling in the evening breeze on her heated skin. The last time she was here, she wore a heavy military coat in scarlet velvet and found it unbearable. Tonight, she was comfortable donning a smooth, flowing Marcher dress that caressed her body rather than constricted it.

Cullen found her, handing her a goblet of red wine. He was more at ease here now than in his youth, no longer the strapping Commander that captivated the hearts - and loins - of the imperial court. His hands had grown softer, his hair a little finer. Her own was now streaked with white strands, but her husband still loved running his fingers through it. It was one of the ways he still showed her regular affection. There were remedies to alter it back to its youthful auburn luster, but she refrained. She'd seen so many fall before, fall _for_ her, so in some semblance of honor she needed to respect her own slow march towards the end. However unsteadying it may be. She and Cullen swore to respect the privilege of each breath.

"It feels surreal being back here," he said as she sipped. "Like another life."

"A more tempestuous one," she replied.

They were silent for a while, watching young lovers walk arm in arm on the grounds below.

"We were married here."

"More precisely, we were married _there_ ," she pointed to the arbor in the distance. "The dog was there, and I still had a glowing arm."

"It _really_ does feel like another life," he said.

"You asked me to dance _here_ ," she said, gesturing to the balcony.

"I _did_! I had completely forgotten about that. Shame on me."

"It was over twenty years ago, Cullen. Nobody will blame you if you can't remember."

"I was dreadful at dancing back then," he shook his head. "How did you still love me after I nearly crushed your toes?"

She laughed, remembering the pain she felt whenever he tripped. "A part of me found it endearing."

"I was very lucky."

" _We_ are lucky. We still have it pretty good. At least, I think so."

"Still, this is probably the last time we'll ever venture here," he said, taking the wine from her hand and placing it on the banister. "Let's make one more memory, shall we?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Cullen took a bow and held out his hand. Briefly, he looked like a younger version of himself again, eager to please her despite his insecurities. "May I have this dance?"

"Of course," she said, taking his hand. "For old time's sake."


	13. Ivresse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini prompt: "The things you said when you were drunk."

 Given the position of the moons in the sky, Cullen knew it was well past midnight by the time he'd finished filing the day's reports. He often worked through meals, but he could no longer quell the gaping abyss in his stomach. If he was lucky, there would still be scraps from the evening's dinner hour in the kitchens. Exiting his office, his exhausted legs took the steps slowly and nearly buckled at the sudden movement.

_Crash!_

The door to the tavern below swung open like a clap of thunder and out stumbled Inquisitor Neb, wobbling on weak knees and tilting her head to the stars.

"Oh, thank the Maker it's cool outside. I'm burning up!"

"Take it one step at a time," Cassandra emerged behind her. "You've had more than your fair share to drink." She pulled Neb up at the waist when the mage stumbled forward, the force of which threw them both back against the door. Cullen, sat on the steps, hiding below the solid stone banister and put a gloved hand over his mouth to subdue his laughter. The Inquisitor was one he'd come to view as poised and graceful. It was rare for anyone to see her flailing her limbs in a drunken stupor, as giddy as a young recruit.

"Steady, Inquisitor," said Cassandra, roping Neb's arm over her shoulders to balance her.

"You know, back in the Circles, we weren't allowed to drink. Something about losing control over magic, which is _bullshit_!" She shouted the word so loudly he heard Cassandra shush her. Cullen pursed his lips, trying to keep his composure and not give away his location. "You should really do something about that - the Seekers, I mean. Because let me tell you, I am so, _so_ drunk right now, and I feel _fine_!"

"I will certainly…make a note of it. Now let's get you back to your rooms before all of Skyhold hears us."

"No, you know what? Wait! Shhhhhh…listen!" Neb pointed back into the glowing lantern light of the tavern where Maryden the bard struck up a new song. "I love this song - I love what she does with it."

"Inquisitor, we don't have time--"

"And it's about _me_! You know, I never thought in my life someone would write a song about me…you know?"

"I'm sure the experience is truly humbling, but we must--"

"Oh, Cullen!"

 _Shit_. He ducked his head further down, praying to the Maker that he didn't have to show his face.

"What's that?" asked Cassandra.

"Cullen's office is right up there! You know, he sleeps in it. Let's wave at him! Hello, Cullen!" He sighed in relief, smiling broadly knowing that he hadn't really been spotted on the stairs and that an inebriated Inquisitor was now wishing him well.

"Yes, yes, now how about we don't disturb the sleeping Commander and get _you_ into bed?"

"You know, I asked him if he was a virgin?"

"Not now, Inqui--you _what_?"

"He's _so_ handsome, you know? I was talking to him and I was _so_ nervous and it just came out! I asked him if Templars took chastity vows! Why did I do that? Oh, Maker, why did I say that? I made an idiot of myself!"

Both Cullen's and Cassandra's faces flushed. He ducked as low as he could, pressing his ear to the cold stone, trying to hear everything. "Erm, he's a busy man. I'm sure that whatever you said, the Commander has already forgotten," she said, trying to comfort her.

"Do you think he would ever…? No, it's foolish. He's…you know, and I'm…you know? No. No, you don't know."

"…Perhaps we can discuss it some more once you're in bed? Let's get you up the steps, come on."

"Okay, Cullen."

" _Cassandra_."

"What did I say?"

He heard the Seeker escort Neb up the stone steps toward her private quarters, but he remained where he sat: cheeks red, eyes wide and mouth agape. How was he going to face her tomorrow? More importantly, what should he _do_ with this information?


	14. Cohabitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini Prompt: Things you said at the kitchen table. Set in my Sing With Me AU.

Cullen woke up to the sound of clanking pans, the smell of frying butter and Neb's familiar, exultant humming. A cool morning breeze filtered through Neb's lace curtains. He watched them billow and recede like ebbing waves and couldn't remember a time he'd felt more well-rested.

He sat up and pulled on his pants that were crumpled on the floor. Evidence of their lovemaking was everywhere, from the twisted sheets to the trail of discarded clothing to the very polite relocation of Cole's cat bed to the living room.

He found Neb in the kitchen, wearing nothing but her underwear and her over-sized university hooded sweatshirt. Her messy hair was pulled back and frizzy strands haphazardly fell out of the tie while she diced tomatoes and crumbled goat cheese over a beautifully browned frittata. The heat from the stovetop gave her skin a dewy, flushed glow. Andraste preserve him, she looked beautiful. He couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her from behind as she worked.

"Good morning," he rasped against her neck.

"Good morning. For once, I'm awake before you!" she said, motioning for him to take a seat at her kitchen table in front of a freshly baked loaf of bread, a bowl of berries and a blue ceramic teapot with two speckled white mugs.

"And you made breakfast."

"That, too."

"You didn't have to do all of this."

"As I've said before, _having to_ and _wanting to_ are very different things. I like you, and I _really_ like breakfast. Combining the two? Win-win." She sliced the frittata and brought two pieces to the table.

"A moment?" Before she could sit down, he took her hand and pulled her to him. She took the hint and straddled his lap so he could hold her close. She felt so warm, so soft against him, so inviting. _Everything_ about her was inviting.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her tenderly while caressing her bare thighs.

"Don't thank me until after you've had a bite." She reached behind her for a raspberry and brought it to his mouth. It was such an intimate act, and he was so thankful to be in a place to share tender moments with someone. She helped him realize his potential, inspired him to move on from his past, encouraged him when he needed support, and he loved her.

"I was thinking…"

" _That_ sounds dangerous," she teased.

"How would you feel if it was always like this? Waking up together? I mean, here."

She sat back in his lap and her whiskey eyes widened. "Cullen? Are you asking to move in?"

"I…yes."

" _Here_? Not me, moving into your incredibly expensive, lavish apartment downtown?"

It's true, his space was more than enough for them both, but all of the pomp and luxury couldn't compare to the way Neb's floorboards creaked when she twirled across the room in an attempt to get him to dance with her. The wall-to-ceiling windows still didn't evoke as much brightness and warmth as Neb's tiny little rusted one, the cracked ledge crowded with pots of succulents and fresh herbs. No, _here_ was home. "I spent most of my adult life not knowing what I wanted, or who I wanted to be. I _know_ I want this. Us. I want to be with _you_. You helped me see that I could be a better person. If I'm going to move on with my life, I'm… Maker, I'm no good at this. Does that…do you…what do you think?"

She kissed him, hard, and he loved the way her soft body pressed against his.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Yes it's a yes, Cullen, but only if you're sure it's what you want."

"I _know_ it's what I want. Trust me."

"I do trust you, and I love you. Now, you know living with me means living with my cooking, so you better start eating."

She rose from his lap and cut a piece of egg with her fork, feeding it to him again. "Maker, woman, I haven't even packed and you're already trying to fatten me up?"

"Absolutely! I've been trying to fatten Cole for years with no luck. You're my new pet project."


	15. First Time - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stregatadallostregatto prompted me. Neb and Cullen's first time together.  
> You can find me at valammar.tumblr.com! Neb also has her own blog at nebtrevelyan.tumblr.com!

The words hung in the air, unsaid.

It began one night in her quarters. They’d pulled her sofa out to face the hearth and warmed themselves on spiced wine and hot, languid kisses. He made the first move. She knew what it meant when he gripped her tighter than usual, clawing his long fingers down her back and outer thighs. His tongue sought hers fervently, tangling them between harsh breaths. When he gently guided her onto her back so he could stretch his lean, powerful body on top of her she obliged, letting him lose himself in her; in the potent combination of liquor and lust. She traced her fingertips along his jawline, loving the rough catch of his stubble. They’d gone on far too long without speaking, without stopping. Instead, there was only a growing static that electrified the room and made her skin tingle.

He was patient, she was timid. Her belly was buzzing with nerves. She could tell that he was waiting for her to ask for more. She felt it in the way his back tensed when her fingers splayed across his shoulder blades, pulling him in, urging him closer; in the way he nipped and licked at her ear; in the way he hitched his hips uncomfortably upward in a poor attempt to conceal his growing arousal. 

They laid there, kissing and stroking over clothing until the silence was almost unbearable and they were softly moaning into each other’s mouths out of the pure pent-up frustration of it all.

“Cullen,” she said while he greedily suckled at her throat. Maker, the man could make her dizzy with that mouth of his.

“Hm?” He raised his head.

“What are you thinking about?” She already knew the answer, but it had been too many years since she’d been with anyone; she didn’t know how else to say it.

They were both in their thirties and spoke fleetingly about their past relationships. As far as romance, there was none before this and from what she could gather, he was as out of practice as she was. Cullen licked his lips and swallowed, briefly looking as shy and sheepish as she felt.  

“I was thinking of how wonderful you feel against me,” he smiled.

Her heart fluttered, but it was telling her that it was ready for this. “Do you want to feel… _more_ of me against you?” There. She made the next move. Now it was his turn to reciprocate.

Amber eyes met hers and they were dark with want. He was silent as if he was contemplating, debating with himself. This was a colossal step for them both. 

“Maker, _yes—_ but only if you’re absolutely certain. …Are you?”

Neb took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nostrils. “I am. I feel like it’s time.”

His forehead touched hers and he nuzzled her nose. “Me too.”

“You said that.”

A chuckle rumbled low in his chest after she mimicked their first chess date. He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I must confess: it’s been a long time. I haven’t wanted anyone like this since…” he trailed off and gazed at her like she was something infinitely precious. “Maker’s breath, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ wanted _anyone_ like this.”

“I never have, either.” She could count her experiences with intimacy on three fingers: quick, uncomfortable and completely dissatisfying. Neb was determined for this to be different. They both had the time to take it slowly. Romantic, not regrettable. 

“Help me get this void-ridden top off, then,” she said, for it was riddled with more fasteners than necessary. 

Another chuckle and it was almost sinful. He gratified her and peppered her face in feather soft kisses. While her hands were shaking, his were steady as he precisely undid every button. While her pulse thundered in her ears, he was calculating and measured. Cullen was just that way: _safe and solid, protecting and proud_. 

He didn’t pull off her garment once the last button was undone. Instead, he sat up on his knees to pull his own linen shirt over his head and no amount of Circle-honed restraint could contain the moan that escaped her lips at the sight of him: sinewy and statuesque, every honed muscle rippled in the flickering firelight underneath fine, blond hair. He was stoking the embers within her to a full blaze and he wasn’t even fully undressed. His physique was in complete contrast to her own. Cullen’s chest was streaked with pale battle scars - a true warrior’s form. It was nothing like hers, to be sure. Her plump build was streaked pale from expansion, not combat. 

What would he think when he saw her bare? Would his scarred upper lip contort in disappointment just like all of her past lovers’? Would he scoff at the way her thighs dimpled or how her stomach puckered above the hem of her breeches? Would he think her to be too much? 

It was difficult to focus on doubt when he rolled his hips down to meet hers and she could feel the full length of him against her. The sheer friction and weight of his erection when he settled between her thighs was enough to drag another raspy moan from her throat and send every notion but her own need straight to the Void where it belonged. 

Rising on his elbows, his hands slipped underneath her open shirt, sliding the fabric aside to reveal her abdomen and breast band. He said nothing at the sight of her soft stomach. Cullen merely explored her exposed skin with flat palms and splayed fingers, touching as much of her as he could. His lips were back at her throat, licking and teasing the sensitive flesh while he stroked her sides up and down. Neb couldn’t resist trailing her own fingers across his taught muscles. 

When she lightly flicked her thumbs over his nipples he groaned and teased his own along the edge of her breast band, feathering his fingers just barely underneath, just enough to draw a gasp of anticipation from her. He was waiting for confirmation again; an order-bound man to the end. Never one to assume or overstep.

“Yes,” she said.

Cullen smiled and kissed her tenderly. He wrapped his powerful arms around her bare torso and pulled her chest against his so she could slip out of her blouse and toss it to the floor and they simultaneously sighed at the extra contact. His fingers brushed up her back until they met the leather ties. It had never been this sensual before; his cock pressed _tightly_ at her core, her hips ground against it to ease the ache. He covered her shoulder in hot, open mouth kisses while he undid her band and peeled it off of her.

She was fully exposed to him now. Heavy, ample breasts fell between them and her nipples brushed against the hair on his chest, drawing a guttural groan from both of them. Slowly, ever-so-gently, Cullen laid her back down, his eyes not leaving hers until she settled against the cushions before they roamed lower and his mouth gaped. 

Insecurity rung in her head again. _Oh no_ , was he displeased? Would he reconsider? What was he thinking? Her nerves crystallized on her skin in tiny goose pimples as she tried to be patient.

“Maker’s breath,” he gasped, cupping her breasts in his rough hands, testing their weight, tracing their shape with his thumbs. Those beautiful eyes of his were brimming with delight and desire and sheer _wonder_. “You are everything I have ever wanted.”

No man had ever looked at her like that. “Kiss me.”

Cullen crushed his mouth against hers and thrust against her frantically, moaning freely as if he could no longer contain his pleasure. He kissed his way down the column of her throat again, tracing his tongue along her clavicles all while stroking and massaging her breasts. When his hot, damp breath ghosted over her nipple she keened, burying her hands in his hair.

He took that as permission and sealed his lips over it and _Maker_ , it was like nothing she’d ever experienced. There was no more doubt, no more thinking, only a haze of ecstasy underneath the rhythmic draw of searing, sweet suction. Her clit was throbbing and deliciously sore. One hand roped underneath her, arching her toward his mouth before switching to her other breast and she thought she would come undone right then. _Nobody_ had ever doted on her this way, taking his time to tease and arouse her. 

“Cullen,” she panted, pushing him up as much as it pained her to lose the warmth of his body over hers. “Breeches. Off. Now.”

“As you wish.” He smirked, sitting up on his knees and locking his eyes on hers while he untied his laces. Neb undid her own. She could tell that he felt more confident now, as did she. Eagerness and provocation were a heady mix. 

It took some shimmying on each of their parts before both sets of breeches were cast over the back of the sofa and they were fully nude. He was _magnificent_ , thick cock jutting between lean thighs and trim hips. She was all curves and suppleness, nestled against the cushions with her shoulder length chestnut waves framing her head in a messy crown.  

“Oh, Maker,” they both said in unison at the sight of one another. They laughed, giddy and excited for what happened next. 

He stretched himself on top of her again, his hot cock landing on her stomach made them both gasp.

“Please tell me if I do anything you do not wish,” he said, caressing her cheek. Cullen’s other hand trailed past her breasts over her belly and along her inner thigh. Up and down, his touch was so light it almost tickled. He drew his hand close, closer, _closer_ , until two of his fingers raked up her aching cunt and she nearly screeched. His was the first apart from her own hand to touch her there. Her past lovers were never so considerate.

“Do you like that?” he rasped against her ear.

“ _Yes_ , Cullen, that—right there! That feels—oh _Maker_ , don’t stop.”

Neb’s hips snapped up toward his hand, greedy for his touch, urging him onward when he began to roll her clit between his fingers. _Fuck_ , it felt amazing. She moaned openly, loudly. Let the whole keep hear her for all she cared. She could spend forever like this, lost in the way he looked at her. Like he could never get enough of her, of watching her fall apart beneath him, of his name being the only sound to escape her lips between desperate gulps of air.

“Faster, faster!” She clamped her eyes shut. It was too good. It was almost too much. She lifted off of the cushions, felt the tension mounting within her, the room growing hotter and brighter until she reached her climax.

She screamed, arching against him but his damnable fingers didn’t relent. He continued to stroke her while she rode to the end of her orgasm, unyielding until the pleasure became overwhelming and she had to pull him away by his wrist.

Cullen kissed her gently, planting soft lips on her forehead, cheeks, nose and mouth. “You are perfection,” he said.

“No, _you_ are. That was…incredible.”

“I’m glad. For a moment I thought I’d have to stop. You lost control of your magic and the fire started growing.”

“I did?” Sure enough, the quiet crackling hearth was now a roaring blaze. “Oh, Maker, Cullen I’m so sorry! That’s never happened to m—mmm!” He kissed her again.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he whispered.

She felt alight, _happy_ , brimming with life. She wanted more of him – _all_ of him. She knew he wouldn’t move forward without her consent. Neb reached between them both to grip him, pumping him gently until beads of precum dripped onto her fingers and his head collapsed on her shoulder. Now it was his turn to groan her name.

“I want you, Cullen,” she moaned, adjusting herself beneath him so she could align him with her entrance. “Please.”

His gaze was intense as he rose on his arms and took his length from her. She gave him a nod and he pushed into her slowly, giving her enough time to relax and envelop him. Maker, she’d never felt this full before, this stretched. It was blissful.

When was fully within her, when their hips met and he touched the deepest parts of her she had to choke back a sob. Everything was perfect. There was no Inquisition, no demons, no life and death. Only the rhythm of his hips and his rigid thickness drawing hums and cries from her throat. Cullen took it slow, using carefully controlled thrusts. Tonight was about discovery, about exploration and taking a leap forward in their relationship. She knew he wouldn’t last long. She didn’t expect him to. 

“Cullen, come for me.”

He kissed her hard. “Not yet.”

He sat up on his knees again, taking her hips with her and lifting her ass off of the sofa until she was nearly bent in two. The new angle was exquisite. She could feel every inch of him pounding into her while he fucked her in earnest. Neb felt that tension mounting again, growing hotter with every pump of his hips. It was almost too much this time. Too good, too powerful—and then he thumbed her clit and she clawed at the armrest above her head when she came a second time. 

Neb had never come like this before. She could feel her walls quivering around him, pulling him in. It proved too much for Cullen, as well, for he rocked against her one last time before collapsing on top of her with a low, animalistic growl, completely spent. 

They hugged each other, bathing one another in loving kisses while the flames died down. 

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I feel…complete. What about you?” she said.

“Complete.”

In a sense, they did complete each other. Where one was willful, the other was flexible. Where one was meek, the other was bold. They challenged each other in only the best ways, their respective traits balanced and reinforced the other’s flawlessly. 

It had been a long time for them both, but as they laid in her bed that night, she thanked Andraste for setting her on this path. The wait was worth it.


	16. Assieds-toi - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was so drunk when I got prompted to write this. Based on a true story.

_One hour_.

They had one blessed hour before either of them had to be anywhere, which was quite a luxury considering they were uniting an entire continent to face the end of the world. Between constant travel and incessant meetings, their hectic schedules often left them with precious little time for intimacy. The two of them made quick work of their attire, clothes cascading over the banister in a rustle of mixed materials.

Once they were fully undressed, Neb wasted no time in pushing her lover onto her mattress and climbing on top of him, eager to feel the heat of his skin.

"Maker, it feels like ages since we've had time to ourselves like this," Cullen said while caressing her waist and hips as she straddled him.

"Well, we're here now," she replied, tracing his abdomen with feather light touches. "Do you have something in mind?"

"There is _one_ thing I thought we could try…"

"Oh?" She gave him a teasing smile.

"Come here."

Neb leaned down, sealing her lips over his in a warm, open mouth kiss. Cullen broke free and nuzzled his rough stubble against the side of her face.

"No, no," he rasped into her ear. He gripped her hips and gave them a gentle pull toward him. "Come _here_."

She cocked her head, trying to ascertain what he was directing her to do until it occurred to her. He wanted her to…

"Oh, Cullen, no!"

"Why not?"

She scoffed. "It wouldn't work."

"How so? Have certain crucial parts of your anatomy relocated in the last few moments?"

"No, but…Cullen, I'm…you know…"

"…Ravishing?"

"I'm too heavy, Cullen. You can't expect someone like me to…sit on you." She murmured the last few words, feeling her face and neck flush.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "You're sitting on me right now and I'm all right. Better than all right, as a matter of fact."

"My thighs would suffocate you."

"They'll be perfectly fine by my ears, which, if I recall, aren't necessary for breathing."

Maker's breath, he was persistent. "Cullen, I'm afraid of you getting hurt."

"Don't be. You're a healer, are you not?"

"Despite what you might think, this talk is _not_ helping!" Being with Cullen had certainly enhanced her self-image. He adored her, doting on her with tender touches and sweet words whether or not they were making love. Yet there was a mental line she had drawn that determined what type of affection or intimacy she felt she deserved. "I'm sorry…this is just very new for me."

"Neb, you are beautiful and your body fills me with an excitement I have never felt. If you oblige me just this once, I promise I will do _anything_ you ask."

"…Anything?"

"I will read my reports to you in that voice you like," he tilted his chin downward, "The soft, low one? The one I'm doing right now?"

Void take him; that voice made her melt. "Even in front of Leliana and Josephine?"

"In front of the King and Queen of Ferelden if I must."

"And no regrets after my legs give out and I crush that handsome nose of yours?"

"That won't happen. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for. Besides, 'I made the Inquisitor come so hard she broke my nose' would earn me some merit down in the barracks."

"Cullen! You don't talk about us, do you?"

"You _know_ I don't. Now, how much time do we have left?"

 _Shit_ , how many minutes had her insecurity cost them? Neb took a breath and quelled her nagging thoughts by focusing on the strong, chiseled man beneath her. The man who loved her.

"All right, Cullen, but only because I trust you."

"A trust I never take for granted," he said softly.

Neb crawled upward, stretching her thighs wide enough for Cullen to wedge between them. He palmed them to guide her toward him, those amber eyes looking at her in sheer awe. He was right. Countless months of horseback and hiking over variable terrain across Thedas had strengthened her legs plenty and she was comfortable gripping the headboard, holding herself above him.

That is, until he dug his fingers into the suppleness of her hips and jerked her toward his eager mouth. Cullen wasted no time, dragging the flat of his tongue slowly across the length of her and her thighs gave way. His mouth was rapturous, focusing on her clit, rolling it before fervently suckling between his soft lips. Euphoria washed over her in undulating waves and soon the stone walls echoed with the sounds of her ecstasy. It was too exquisite. She was losing strength fast, but Cullen’s hands were urging her against him, encouraging her relax herself onto his face completely. When he changed pace and began alternating between frenetic flicks and serpentine slides it was impossible for her to concentrate on supporting herself any longer.

“O-oh, Cullen!”

Neb’s body collapsed onto him as she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her, unable to focus, unable to think about anything other than the growing static prickling up her spine. His fingers splayed and massaged up her outer thighs, her hips, her belly and breasts. The electricity crackled underneath her eyelids and she saw sparks of bright, white light. _Maker_ , there was nothing like this; like rocking her hips against his waiting tongue, his nose, claiming her climax from him in an entirely new way.

She rolled against him deliriously when her orgasm shuddered through her. There were no words, only desperate pants, greedy gulps of air and shrill cries while his unrelenting mouth continued to tease her.

“Oh Maker, Cullen, stop! I—I don’t think I can—it’s too much!” Neb pulled at his silken curls to get him to let up. He stared at her dreamily, face coated in her arousal.

“You are _breathtaking_ ,” he gasped, greedily stroking her skin. 

“Not literally though, right?”

“I’m fine. Was that all right?”

She giggled, feeling euphoric, free. “I think I understand why people do it now, yes. But if you don’t mind, there is something _I’d_ like to try.”

“By all means,” Cullen grinned.

“Stay where you are,” she said before dismounting him. Neb turned her body and straddled him again so her back was to him, hovering just above his throbbing cock. She turned her head and saw his amber eyes watching her with rapt attention. She bit her lip in excitement before sinking onto him, a low moan escaping both of them.

She ground against him with gusto and he embedded his fingers into her luscious hips, guiding her back onto him with his own gentle thrusts. For one blessed hour, they shared something a little different.


	17. Deleted Scene - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a deleted scene from Sing With Me. My beta and I butted heads over it from the get-go and I veered on the side of taking it out - so I finally did. Regardless, it's some decent smut if I do say so myself, so I've posted it here for anyone to read if they so wish. Just think of it as an AU for my AU. An AU of broom closet sexy times.

Neb took a step closer, tipping her face to his. "Say it again." 

Cullen sucked in a breath and she couldn't get over the look of unmistakable joy on his face. The way he looked at her made her feel so _beautiful_. 

" _I want you_. I have _always_ wanted you." 

She was already a little woozy from the wine, but _Maker_. Hearing that made her knees wobble. Neb surged forward with a desperate gasp, cupping both side of his face, her lips meeting his. Cullen welcomed her with a guttural groan and she arched into him. It had been so long since she felt this kind of desire but the sensation of his mouth nearly made her leap out of her own skin. Like a lightning strike in a storm of _need_ , all while the words sang in her head over and over: _I want you. I want_ you.  

She broke the kiss even thought it almost pained her to. His head followed her as she pulled back, his eyelids fluttering like tiny wings before he slowly opened the revealing liquid gold irises nearly swallowed by inky black. 

"I want you too," she said, her voice just above a whisper.  

"Thank the Maker, or else that would have been awkward." 

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me again." 

She wanted him more than she wanted to breathe. She wanted to give in to the impulse of desire and _own_ _it_ for once in her life. Tonight, she had this man pinned against the wall, swallowing his moans and succumbing to the velvety glide of his tongue _—_ _fuck, that tongue,_ slick and hot and fierce against hers. She wanted to feel it against her flushed neck, over her breasts, teasing its way down lower, lower, _lower_... 

 _Be_ _bold_. Her urges took over and while their mouths crushed together she clasped her hand over his belt buckle, tugging the supple leather apart and going straight for his zipper. Cullen was occupied with roaming his hands over her back. He had the calloused fingers of a new guitarist, the roughness stoking a fire in her as they traced over her shoulder blades. 

 _Want, want,_ _want_ _,_ her mind repeated. _I want you._  

She got his pants undone and didn’t bother to shove them down his trim hips, instead satisfied to splay the opening as far as it would go and slide her hand smoothly through it, brushing her fingers ever-so-slightly against his still-clothed length, relishing his reaction to her touch. He gasped and groaned between eager kisses, bucking against her hand as he did so. She used his distraction to free him from the confines of his underwear, allowing him to spring forth before her appreciative eyes and hands. 

Maker, he was so _magnificent_ she had to restrain from licking her lips—at least he was to _her_ , though she was pretty certain an objective case could be made. 

She drew a single finger along the underside and admired the way his body twitched at her touch; the faintest brush enough to make him whimper. 

The hand that had been at her back flew upward to her zipper, messily pulling and having far less success than she did with his pants, while the other dropped first to her hip, tracing the soft contours before sliding over her thigh towards her center. 

She caught his hand before it could make contact. “Stay there,” she said. 

“Neb, you—“ 

“ _Stay_ ,” she insisted while she sunk to her knees. 

She reached around him and firmly planted her hands on his ass, drawing him toward her though barely stopping before her parted lips made contact just below the soft rim. She heard Cullen make a low growl followed by the sound of his shoulders or his head hitting the wall.  

 “Neb.” His voice was quiet and she could feel him looking down on her. He moved a hand from the wall and brushed it through her hair. “Please. You don’t have to—“ 

“You might not realize this, Cullen, but _have_ _to_ and _want_ _to_ are very different things. And what I _want_ is to be here. With you. Is that all right?” 

He pursed his lips and debated for a moment, searching her face, the tension electrified by the fact that there was an entire fundraiser milling about just on the other side of the door. “ _Yes_.” 

He stopped protesting when she planted tender, appreciative kisses along the side of his length. Her mouth made it all the way back up him, a slick trail of soon-to-be-useful moisture in its wake, and to celebrate its ascent, she finally took him into her mouth. Neb wrapped her hand around him, falling just below the ridge and then slowly enveloped the tip first in her lips, then allowed him to sink past them into her mouth. She twirled her tongue around him while her thumb gently massaged the underside. 

“ _Maker’s breath_.” Another muffled thud.  She could feel him strain against the urge to thrust himself fully into her mouth, as the muscles in his firm ass contracted tellingly with the effort. She applied the barest amount of suction and he nearly flew off the wall. 

She released his tip and once again drew down his length, this time virtually all tongue, working in conjuncture with her increasingly moistened fingers to coat him with wetness. She heard the sound of his well-groomed fingernails scratching at the brick, possibly seeking something to grab onto that his brain, in some attempt to avoid an ungentlemanly cliché, insisted not be her head. 

Satisfied with her work so far, she reached up and gently placed her hand above his tip and slowly drew it down, keeping her grip firm, allowing him to push himself into it and reward him with warmth and moisture. Her body _ached_ while she pleasured him, while she drew another gasp or moan. It had been so long, so, so long, and now she was finally— 

“Neb, stop. Stop, please.” To her disappointment, he gently cupped the back of her head to pull her away from him, panting frantically. 

“I’m so sorry. Did I…?” 

“No!” he barked. “ _No_. Maker, you— _you_ are amazing. _That_ was incredible. It’s just…what are we _doing_?” 

 _Oh no, is he changing his mind? Did I ruin it again?_ _No, no, no, fuck! I always do this!_ “What do you mean?” 

He seemed to sense her anxiety and gave the back of her neck a reassuring squeeze. “I meant _here_ …we’re in a broom closet.” 

Cullen was right. What _were_ they doing? She had been so wrapped up in her own excitement that she was willing to escort this man into a maintenance room and kneel in front of him on a cracked floor that smelled like dust and damp. He helped her to stand before tucking himself back into his pants.  

“You’re right,” she said, hugging herself in shame. “This is disgusting. I just got so caught up in the moment and I…wow, what you must think of me now.” 

He cupped her flushed cheek and traced her swollen mouth with his thumb. She leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand. He was so _gentle_ it damn near broke her heart. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” he asked, softly. 

“…What?” 

The gnarled scar on his upper lip contorted with a sly grin. “I’m thinking that my place is only a few blocks away. What do you say we grab our coats?”


	18. Winter Retreat - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous user prompted me to write Neb and Cullen taking a snowy cabin getaway in my Sing With Me AU. PURE FLUFF. With some brief silly smut at the very end. These two CAN have a lighter side.

"You know what I love most about hot chocolate?" Neb asked while pouring the rich, piping hot mixture into two mugs. 

"What's that?" 

"We didn't have a lot growing up. Between seven kids, city taxes and one income, there wasn't extra cash for treats." Cullen watched her scoop two dollops of freshly whipped cream into each cup before topping them with sprinkles of lavender and a peppermint stick. "But my mom worked for the local Chantry, and they had offered free hot chocolate in their lobby. Those premade powder packets, the ones you mix with hot water. 

"The Chantry didn't have a lot of money, either, but they'd give my mom a few extra boxes from their monthly shipment—for us kids. So no matter how short on money we were for food, we could at least have something that was a little, I don't know if I'd call it _special_ , but..." 

"Comfort," he added. 

"Yeah," she nodded, hugging herself over her thickly knit sweater. "It's always been a comfort." 

He watched her stir the peppermint stick around until the red melted off. Cullen was never too fond of the stuff—he preferred savory foods where Neb liked sweet. Regardless, he drained his cup and asked for seconds.  

 

* * *

 

The two of them trudged through the mountainside valley, each footstep disrupted by the familiar crunch of heavy snow under their boots. The temperature was rather mild, making for a comfortable day of nature hiking. Griffon panted excitedly and zig zagged between them on powerful legs. Neb’s, however, were beginning to give out.  

“I don’t hear any bird calls,” Cullen shouted from in front of her. 

“There was a hawk circling up ahead. They’re probably in hiding,” she huffed. “If we’re lucky, we might catch a family of deer when we get closer to the clearing.” 

He must have heard her catching her breath. “Did you need to stop and rest for a bit?” 

 _Yes._ "No!" she wheezed. "Just the higher altitude is all. My lungs need to adjust." 

"Did you ever notice that you hunch your shoulders inward when you're lying?" 

She sighed. "Fine, yes, I'm tired." 

"It's no trouble," he said, trudging back to her. "I could do with an opportunity to cool down, myself. The Frostbacks feel unseasonably warm now. I remember walking this trail with my parents and it was absolutely _freezing_." 

"Did you come here often?" 

"Not _often_ , but our town wasn't too far off." He invited her to sit down in the snow with her. Neb stumbled, letting the firmly packed powder break her fall. He pulled off his knit cap to dry his sweat-soaked curls and unzipped his down coat. He gave her a fatigued smile and Neb leaned into him, feeling snow gather in her mitten. Struck with an impulse too great to ignore, she tried to distract him. 

"So, you're feeling rather warm?" she asked while compacting a little white ball. Something small enough to slide just down the back of his shirt. 

"A bit, yes." 

Oh, she'd be in for it if she did it. He'd absolutely get even. "Is it really that much warmer here than when you were a kid?" 

He shrugged. "It could be, or my body just runs warmer now. My shoulder will still take a few more years of healing." 

"Well," she sang, "maybe this will help?" Before he could react, she'd thrust her arm down past his neck and let the snowball crumble over his spine. 

Cullen hissed, his body tense and Neb couldn't prevent herself from falling back in a fit of giggles. 

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist!" She laughed, completely unaware of him shuffling next to her. 

"If _that's_ how you're going to play, you'd better make sure beforehand that you can take what you dish out." 

She should have been paying attention, because Cullen grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulled it up and poured an icy handful of snow onto her bare abdomen.  

"Ack! Cold!" She squealed. When she scrambled to her feet, he'd already taken a few preemptive steps back.  

"You're in for it now, Stanton," she mocked him.  

"Speak for yourself," he grinned as he flung another snowball at her. Crisp, cold and wet, it struck her on the side of her neck.  

"Do you declare war?" she said, trying to sound authoritative. 

"I dare say I do!"  

Their playfulness launched into a full-blown competition. The two of them circled each other, hurling snowballs left and right while Griffon bounded between them to catch stray flurries in his mouth.  

Neb managed to pelt him twice in a row and he faltered. "Do you concede?" 

"Never! It so happens that I have an accomplice." Cullen pointed at the dog. "Now! Launch a full assault! Get her!" 

"Bark!" 

Neb was about to dash out of Griffon's trajectory line when she saw the large grey mabari make a sharp turn and tackle Cullen to the ground so hard he grunted. All she could make out were her lover's flailing limbs underneath him. 

"No, get _her_ , you insolent traitor!" Cullen cried out. 

"Betrayed by your own subordinate," Neb tsked, crossing her arms and leaning over him. "Do you admit defeat?" 

"Fine," he groaned. "Did I die with honor, at least?" 

"Indeed. You fought valiantly."  

He nodded sagely, a wry smile on his lips. "Very well. What are your terms to my surrender?" 

"...I get to call you Stanny for the rest of the day." 

He cringed. Griffon licked his cheek. 

 

* * *

 

"When I said you could join me, this isn't quite what I had in mind." She lounged in the oversized basin tub with the scent of eucalyptus filling the air, the flicker of fresh candles and an overabundance of foamy bubbles. Cullen sat on a stool behind her, his pants rolled to his knees, submerging his legs in the water with her. She gently massaged the firm muscles in his calves while he did the same to her soapy scalp in slow, methodic circles. 

"Hot water tends to leave me a little dehydrated, remember?" He tenderly tipped her head back to rinse off the remaining shampoo, cupping the back of her scalp just so to avoid water draining into her ears. "Besides, you deserve to be pampered once in a while." 

"I'm not complaining, Stanny," she smiled, eyes closed. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Knight takes pawn," she said, removing his piece from the board. 

"You're getting better at this," he stroked his chin. 

"You know the rules. My turn." 

"All right," he looked at her. "What do you want to know this time?" 

"Hmm," she pondered. "Worst kiss you ever had." 

"You mean apart from Griffon's?" The dog, snoozing peacefully, raised his head upon hearing his name only to lay it back down once he saw that they weren't summoning him for their table scraps. "Probably my first." 

"How old were you?" 

"Fourteen. At a neighbor's barn party. There was a girl there about my age—Maker, I can't even remember her name now. She had this incredibly long hair, and all I can recall is that somehow strands of it found themselves tangled into my braces." 

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. _You had braces?_ " 

"You're going to have to claim another piece before you hear _that_ story," he smirked. 

 

* * *

 

 

Neb had many facial expressions Cullen enjoyed. 

There was the way she bit her bottom lip when she felt completely befuddled or uncertain. Or the single eyebrow raise when she was skeptical. Then there was the way her kissable cheeks softened as she slept, her full lips parted ever-so-slightly. There was also the way her eyes crinkled in amusement whenever Cole scampered across the floorboards chasing a red laser light. 

Finally, there was his favorite: the way her eyes closed and her head tossed back in rapture when she sank onto him, accompanied by a pleasurable gasp.    

Sprawled out shamelessly naked on the cabin rug, he loved the way the fire cast shadows over her soft skin, the way her generous hips rolled against him inevitably causing her to make that gorgeous face again.  

But there was a new expression on her face now. Half-pleasure, half-mischief. 

"What is it?" he asked when she started quietly laughing. 

"Oh, _Stanny_!" she whimpered.  

Cullen groaned. "For the love of—!" He surged forward, pulling her against his chest and flipping her onto her back in as fluid of a motion he could muster while she cackled.  

"Oh, yes, Stanny—harder!"  

"This is the last time you win a snowball fight, I swear." He tried to control his thrusts while containing his own laughter.  


	19. Ineloquence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Three weeks later, he told her he loved her." 
> 
> This was a prompt from an anonymous user. I do wanna clarify that Neb and Cullen aren't the type who need to say "I love you" all the time to know that they care for one another, rather they use actions instead of words to show affection. But here's Cullen's first time fumbling through this love thing.

Neb moseyed down aisle after aisle in the crowded supermarket, weaving between families and loners alike who couldn’t decide between a can of regular or creamed corn. Cullen hated the supermarket. It was too narrow, too bright, and having countless strangers brush against him was enough to give him a headache—but having a dog and a new partner in his life required sacrificing some personal comfort once in a while. They needed to eat, after all.

“All right, that should be everything on the list, time to wait for the next age to roll us by,” she joked after joining the sluggish checkout line.

Standing and waiting was another arduous ordeal altogether. Maker’s breath, why would a retailer install ten lanes if only _two_ were ever going to be lit at any given time? After his eyes scanned the layout for additional insufficiencies, they landed on a magazine cover resting next to him. Madame de Fer was a globally-renowned fashion publication marketed to aspiring, ambitious women in-the-know, and its cover boasted tastefully dressed celebrities and a soothing color scheme aptly picked by its notoriously perfectionistic editor-in-chief. He knew that much from working for Varric—one of his printing houses dispensed it. What he would normally scoff at as frivolous became a subject of great interest when a particular headline caught his eye: _When You Want to Say “I Love You.” Page sixty-two._

Cullen and Neb had only been in an official relationship for three weeks, but over the last few months of knowing her, he felt an undeniable connection. It was more than affection and _certainly_ more than lust.

On impulse, he plucked the magazine from the stand and flipped it open:

_Congratulations! You’ve found a partner who feels perfect for you in every way. They make you smile, they’re easy to talk to and the sex is mind-blowing._

“Maker’s breath,” he felt his ears blush, but he continued reading. True, his feelings went beyond lust but there hadn’t been a lack of that the last few weeks, either. The last thing he needed was to imagine Neb utterly naked on his sheets when an elderly woman stood right behind him in line with her grandchildren in tow.

_It’s possible that you’ve been in such a deep state of continual post-coital bliss that you haven’t yet analyzed how deep your feelings for them go; however, if you have managed to look past your physical attraction, you may be left wondering where you want your relationship to venture next.  You may even have been playing with three little words in your mind._

“Cullen, could you help me load up the conveyor belt?” she asked, getting his attention. He continued scanning the article while passing her indiscriminate produce from the cart with one hand.

_Want to drop the L-bomb? Make note of a few qualities that mean you’re really ready to commit:_

  1. _You’ve lost interest in seeing other people._ (Of course, I have—I wasn’t interested in anyone else to begin with! This list is a waste of time.)
  2. _You feel a profoundly sincere bond with them._ (Undoubtedly.)
  3. _You want to make them feel validated and supported._ (Most definitely. She’s done more than enough of that for me.)
  4. _You love all the tiny quirks and intricacies that form their whole person._ (Like how she keeps a separate savings account specifically for charity donations, or how she can’t read a book without laying on her back with her knees curled to her chest, or how she—well now you’re just getting yourself sidetracked.)



_Do all of these apply to you?_ (Yes.) _Then it boils down to timing: when do you say “I love you”? Never make the first instance happen while you’re under the influence or under the covers, when people are most likely to say things they don’t mean. You should certainly try to give it a few months._ (A few months? How many, exactly? I’ve _known_ her for a few months. Does that count? Answer me, you fiendish piece of trite dribble!) _But you should also never wait on it once you feel it. Waiting too long can only make it a bigger obstacle to overcome, and if you say it too quickly or don’t say it at all, you are at risk of your partner leaving._

Wait, what? _Leaving_? Don’t wait too long? Don’t say it too soon? What’s appropriate?

Lost in an internal struggle, he felt startled by Neb’s hand on his shoulder and inexorably breaking his concentration.

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy,” she said, completely oblivious to the panic thrumming in his chest.

He made more money. It was more prudent for him to pay, but when he tried to speak she insisted. Neb was just that way; eager to lend a helping hand wherever she could, indiscriminately. She smiled at the cashier, her teeth white and beautiful, like the lace on her window curtains. Her glossy hair shined underneath the fluorescent lights, highlighting the apples of her cheeks. He loved those cheeks. He loved that hair. He loved those teeth.

He loved _her_.

“I almost have the exact change in cash. Cullen, do you have six coppers?”

Blessed Andraste, he loved her. He felt the words climb up from his throat.

“Cullen?”

Without warning, they all toppled out.

“…I love you,” he whispered faintly—apparently, far too faintly to be heard. There were no signs of shock or delight across her face. Instead she leaned her head forward with an inquisitive expression.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I do!’ Have six coppers!” he barked, flustered. He dumped the contents of his wallet out onto the counter, told the cashier to keep the change, grabbed both of their grocery bags and made a mad dash for the exit.

“Hey. Is everything all right?” she asked when she finally caught up with him.

“Yes.” Too short and abrupt—he caught her bemused expression.

“Too crowded, huh?”

Always looking out for him, unaware that it was embarrassment eating at him instead of overstimulation. Cullen felt heat rising in his cheeks.

“Right. Too crowded.”

Griffon bounded to greet them when he opened the door to his apartment. Neb indulged the dog and his piggish squeals of delight while he sorted the groceries, methodically placing fresh jars of spices on his countertop, one-by-one, as if he were setting up pieces on a chess board. Bit by bit, she took it upon herself to stock his kitchen with food, cookware and other sundries. She’d even gifted him the white ceramic fruit bowl he began filling with juicy green pears. _Every home needs a fruit bowl_ , she said.

When he was finished he joined them in the living room and took a seat on the sofa. Neb kneeled on the floor over Griffon now, scratching his belly. Cullen felt a flood of affection wash over him at the sight.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Cullen? You seem awfully distracted,” she said. Her caramel eyes met his and he held it, feeling his heart race, his stomach clench. Gazing at her made him feel _so damned much._

“I love you.”

She stared back at him, stunned. “I might have misheard—did you…?”

“I love you,” he repeated. “I don’t know if it’s too soon or too late to say it. Sorry, I’ve never been a good judge of these things, but _please_ believe me when I tell you that I mean it.”

“Cullen, I believe you,” she rose to meet him where he sat and took his hands in hers. “Don’t ever think that I wouldn’t.”

He didn’t know what to say next. All he wanted was to tell her just how exactly he loved her—how he loved the way she felt in his arms; the sound of her voice, tender and sweet; the soft fluttering of her eyelashes when she first awoke.

What he said instead was, “Thank you.”

Neb climbed onto the sofa so she could sit astride him, curves settling into his lap. He roped one arm around her waist and another over her shoulder blades to pull her close. Her dainty fingers traced his jawline and chin before she angled her head to press her lips to his. The kiss was gentle and undemanding, her full mouth caressing his. Cullen reached up to cup her cheek and smoothed his thumb lovingly over her dewy skin.

“I love you, too,” she said, pressing her forehead to his.

“Maker’s breath, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he smiled.

“Want me to say it again?”

“Please.”

“Cullen,” she spoke softly. “I love you, too.”


	20. On Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This unedited drabble has been sitting in my drafts folder for a year, so I'm just posting it as-is. Some pre-relationship impressions.

"Check," Cullen said, his piece landing on the marble board with a deliberate clack.

"What?"  

"Check. My cleric has captured your king."  


“Where?”  


“Right _there_.” He pointed.  


Cassandra scrunched her nose, looking at her pieces. He was right. She was cornered from every side. "You must have cheated!"

"No, I granted you a beginner's courtesy. You left him unguarded two moves ago."

"Ugh," she groaned. "This is nonsense! And who decided _castles_ can move, of all things?"

"Is this your way of admitting defeat, Lady Cassandra?"

"Why you little-- _fine_ , you win." She crossed her arms and pouted gracelessly while Cullen reset the board, lips curled into a smug grin.

"Heil the Herald!" the two heard from outside the tent. Waves of new supporters washed into the Haven Chantry. To Cullen, Neb Trevelyan was still an anomaly at least; an Enchanter from the Ostwick Circle, the youngest of a minor noble family, trusted by the Divine in her final moments, and who wielded the power to seal the Veil at most. The rumors persisted and without fail the woman had reached a new level of mythos with a grandstanding title to match: the Herald of Andraste.

"What do you think, Cullen? Do you believe?"

He looked down at his boots, pensive. "Does it really matter?"

"If you wish to call yourself Andrastian!"

"So you don’t, I take it?"

She shifted uncomfortably while the question lingered. "I…I cannot say for certain."

“Who _can_?” He stood up to leave the tent, pausing to appraise the parade of newcomers. “I suppose only time will tell whether this Herald of Andraste is a gift of faith or folly.”

 _Faith_. That was something he was familiar with. If there was one constant in Cullen’s life, it was faith.  

 _Faith_ kept him vigilant during arduous hours of Templar training. _Faith_ kept him persistent in Kirkwall as the city crumbled around him. _Faith_ kept his sword steady as he struck through spindly demons while choking on ash and the putrid reek of burning flesh in the Valley of Sacred Ashes.

Every trial and tragedy only strengthened his resolve. The Maker routinely tested his to ensure a faith unwavering--and he always passed.  

When he stood in the ashen ruins of the Temple, he knew his faith was being challenged yet again. He struck through onslaught after onslaught of ruthless demons. As his soldiers’ numbers dwindled, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

He’d heard the Seeker’s affirmation that a full charge was at the ready when a spindly terror sprung from the rubble below. It was bigger than the last few he'd faced. The creature's vicious claws dug into the loose gravel, piercing his ears with a teeth-rattling shriek. He murmured a prayer when it heaved violently forward and slashed against his shield.  

The battle felt like mere seconds before that enchanted mark weakened the beast. Cullen found his prayer rewarded with his own sword puncturing its chitinous hide. Standing on the Temple’s hallowed ground, the demon’s last gurgled breath fell like a benediction. By the grace of the Maker, he would live to fight another day. 

So, it would seem, would the woman with the Mark. 

He had to admit that her optimism carried an infectious quality. She’d accepted her role in the Inquisition with grace, though adamantly resisting her publicly claimed divinity. When she wasn’t scouting territory, she could be found tending to the wounded in Haven’s makeshift clinic. To be sure, having a healer on staff was a blessing. Rumor spread quickly about the mage who procured healing herbs and supplies for refugees and soon followers came in droves to partake in her abilities.

Despite being a man of few distractions, he often caught himself watching her when he made his way past the tent. When he turned the corner toward the smithy, there she was, her hair pulled away from her sweat soaked brow, vigorously dismantling piles of elfroot before dumping the leaves into a mortar. He’d commanded officers with less dedication during their entire career than she had in this one task.

Neb sensed him, and soon her whiskey eyes landed on his and crinkled as she politely smiled. 

“Good morning, Commander,” she nodded. Whenever she greeted him, he felt himself correct his posture on impulse, and every time, he felt the compulsion to offer a rare smile back as if it were sinful to do otherwise. There was a magnetism she emitted; something he couldn’t deny.  _Maybe_ , he wondered, _those droves of faithful aren’t so far off?_

The Maker inspired him to do good, but if there was something to be said about the Herald, with only a simple greeting she inspired him to do  _better_. 


	21. Rosemary and Basil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old prompt about Neb and Cullen baking something together that I always intended to write, but never found the time until now. (For the curious, AU Neb is a great cook whereas canon Neb is damned awful at it. They're both great with herbs, though.)

There was barely enough room for them both to prepare food together in her tiny apartment kitchen, but Cullen liked the added layer of intimacy. How her hair smelled of vanilla shortbread. The pungent, earthy aroma that the round afternoon sun summoned from the tattered Rivaini rug in their living room. The flex of her calves when she stood on her toes to reach a mixing bowl from the cupboard. The way the record player emitting Maryden's chansons filled the space with richness and enclosed him in a fantasia of security. The way they wove around each other from counter to counter, task to task. How they could be two bodies moving as one.  

The warmth and motion brought him to a point of olfactory comfort after a particularly terrible night of dreaming. He awoke to Griffon’s cool nose against his palm and Neb’s heated hand on his shoulder, cooing that he wasn’t there anymore. That he was safe. The following morning she suggested a tomato basil galette to invoke a new beginning. He was skeptical. Nevertheless, by the time she downed the dregs of her morning tea she'd put him to work sifting flour. 

“You know what I love most about baking?” she asked. 

“Is it that you look exquisite in an apron?” 

She playfully patted his shoulder. 

"Baking is like magic. Growing up, I experienced a longing; a longing to be accepted, a longing for material wealth, a longing for love. Young and passionate, I mourned a life I couldn't have until I was on my own. Then I got a part-time job at a record store and for the first time, I had money that was mine. After many fateful nights of watching cooking programs, for some reason I chose to spend it on food.  

"Soon, my favorite hot chocolate packets transformed into heavy cream and chunks of buttery dark chocolate topped with rose petals to fill my lonely heart. Store bought cookies became peaks of pavlova. Food turned into herbs, and herbs allowed me to heal. Rosemary for remembrance of where I came from; lavender to calm my worried mind. Basil empowered each new breath so I could truly sing.  They allowed me to pray. They allowed me to find peace." She laughed breathlessly. "Magic. Medicine. Whatever you want to call it. When music couldn't console me, food was the fountainhead for the greatest change." 

He loved the honeyed, unrestrained expressiveness in her voice when she got like this. Cullen listened to her wax poetic and worked the dough. The monotony offered a soothing outlet and Neb insisted he had the stronger arms for kneading. Shape, pummel, push, dust with flour, pummel, roll, shape. Once it had been properly flattened, Neb swooped in and slathered it in soft cheese. He watched as she glided the spatula over the dough with the grace and precision of a figure skater on ice.  

"Before we add the tomatoes, the cheese needs flavor." 

Kitchen forager that she was, she nearly sprang to the lone windowsill which was currently swollen with pots of greenery. With a dainty hand, she plucked some sprigs and returned to reveal a fragrant piece of rosemary. 

"For remembrance," she said. "Never forget the past that made you." 

Cullen's throat tightened and Neb offered an encouraging smile.  

"And basil," she held up a verdant leaf, "to face the future." 

"And to sing like you?" 

"No, to sing like _you_. Besides, your voice could never get that high." 

They arranged the tomatoes until the pale dough was covered in a sea of poppy red. Then, fuzzy mits gripping the pan, she ordered him out of the kitchen to join Griffon and Cole in the living room. The cat was seeing to the dog's hygiene by bathing his ears with rigorous laps of his tongue. A few minutes later, Neb reappeared with plates and hearty slices of the day's effort. She watched him intently as he took his first bite. 

Something in the tangy, savory flavor reminded him of his first months in Kirkwall. Having grown up under the starlight of the Fereldan countryside, he rejected each new morning in the city. His feet resented the concrete. His ears abhorred the incessant noise. His body tensed at the endless throngs of people and pulsing heat. For a brief time he wondered if he made the right decision. 

Now, a realization struck him: there was something enthralling about the promise of another dawn. The possibility. The sun rose like a stone upon which to sharpen himself.  

"How are you feeling?" she asked. They lounged on the sofa afterward, bellies full. 

 _Growth is slow_ , she once said to him back in music therapy. So slow that he might not realize a shift in perspective, in a greater ease of being. But in that moment, growth was something tangible, like a new song learned on his guitar. Or a new recipe learned in the kitchen. 

"If anything, my tastebuds certainly feel renewed," he said. 

Neb ran a healing hand through his hair. "Sometimes that's enough." 

And it was. 


	22. Careless Whisper - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My submission to thesecondsealwrites' Sex Laughter Honesty Week 2017. Some silly fluffy smut to apologize for the angst bomb I dropped earlier this week.  
> RIP George Micheal.

The door felt weighted against Cullen’s tired shoulders as he leaned his way into their apartment. Study sessions proved to be intellectually stimulating, but long hours of reiteration took their physical toll when preceded by a full day of classes. He carted several scholarly journals and textbooks under his arm: _Critical comments on music and music education therapy_ ; _Educating Musically; The New Handbook of Music Pedagogy and Learning_ in preparation for upcoming exams. Regardless, he wouldn’t trade his new academic pursuit for the world on a platter.

Griffon had succumbed to sleep long before he got there, or else the gargantuan canine would have assaulted him in ecstatic glee before he’d fully stepped inside. Instead, he lazily opened one eye and gave him a chuff of greeting before adjusting himself around Neb’s cat— _their_ cat. He’d never imagined his adult life would bring him one pet, let alone two. Watching them curled on their shared pillow in slumber made him envious.

Exhaustion pulled at him, summoned him down the hall that seemed to stretch farther with every step he took. He dropped his school bag behind the couch next to Neb’s purse. And shoes. And sweater. And…teacup? The woman was a fantastical paradox of both overwhelmingly ordered and unfathomably unkempt. Layers of her clothing often scattered the floor, yet he could guarantee her record collection was sorted alphabetically, always. He didn’t mind the extra pickup. If anything, it became part of his meditative morning ritual, in between a lengthy run and brewing a pot of pekoe.

Admittedly, he’d often played a hand in all that strewn apparel, anyway—and her glowingly satisfied expression afterward, if he felt especially vain.

He turned into the bathroom and splashed his face in cool water. His body perpetually ran hot, and his shoulder always needed extra care early and late in the day. Cullen opened his container of soothing elfroot balm that Neb kept on a shelf next to a ceramic cup that contained his razor, a comb and an ever-changing nosegay of seasonal blooms. On this spring day, it happened to be fragrant orange blossoms. In winter, she’d placed a sprig of eucalyptus that emitted a pleasant medicinal smell when they bathed.

A soft ballad filtered from behind the bedroom door which was haloed by a yellow glow. Neb usually stayed awake until he returned. She took any excuse in pursuit of a later bedtime. Her years as a social worker and graduate student primed her for long nights.

When he opened the door, he saw her sprawled over the duvet engrossed in a magazine while lightly humming to nostalgic pop songs in nothing but a tank top and her underwear. Cullen memorized it all, every crystallized detail. The fluttering of her eyelashes. The way the fine lines on her face softened when she bequeathed him one of her gentle, welcoming smiles. Her long, shapely legs—strong yet soft—stretched in front of him. Weighted, he collapsed his body between them, crawling far enough on the bed to rest his head on the lush expanse of her stomach. Neb sighed happily and raked a hand through his hair.

No matter how arduous his day, he never sickened of coming home to her. He loved their tiny bedroom in their tiny home where he could admire her in breathless adoration; where he could be himself without the strain of societal constraints.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey.”

“How was school?”

“ _Long_ ,” he said with an enervated groan.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, just tired.”

“I took Griffon out for final call an hour ago.”

“Thanks,” he raised his head to smile at her and she giggled at the catch of his stubble on her exposed midriff. “What, you don’t like that?” He nuzzled her skin once more.

“Ack, stop!” He did, grinning and chuckling softly until she lightly swatted his head. “You’ve exploited my ticklishness for the last time.”

“Oh, you mean _this_ last time?” He gripped her waist in an idle threat.

“Don’t you _dare_.”

“You know I won’t.” Unable to resist anymore, he pulled himself up to her eye level and leaned forward to press his lips to hers.

That mouth, so plump and pliant against him. Her delicate hands. Her grip tightening on his biceps. She told him once that as a child, she prayed to the Maker for longer fingers so that she could perform her music more proficiently, but he loved how dainty they appeared when intertwined with his own. How she loved him filled him with a flourish of gratitude. Neb had appeared before him with kindness and jest that once would have made him feel pitied. She had offered her hand to him and given him the inspiration he needed to save himself. She’d supported him, understood him and never once questioned his secrecy—or idiosyncrasies.

It was a miracle she let him love her at all. He’d never forget the first time; how whole he felt when her glorious form laid bare on his bed and he kneeled before her in supplication like a sinner before the Divine herself.

“Cullen,” she moaned. He knew that outside their home he played the role of a shy diligent, but her voice unleashed in him something insatiable and fiery. Her tender touch was enough to stoke the ever-glowing embers within him; to quicken the rapidly thumping pulse in his throat. His hands caressed her sides—pleasantly cool against his heated skin. Cullen pulled away and felt awed by the sight of her: flushed cheeks, round and sweetly appled. The rise and fall of her ample chest. The lavender oil she massaged into her skin before bed, leaving her dewy and supple. Her hair fanned over the pillow in dark tendrils like a pagan crown. The shimmer in her cognac eyes. The thin strap on her top draped nonchalantly off one shoulder.

“How do you do that?” he asked, cupping her jaw to trace his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Do what?”

“Be so devastatingly beautiful.”

Neb’s eyes widened with surprise, then relaxed into curious wrinkles and mirth as her lips curled into a wry smile. “Magic.”

“Hm,” he hummed, “then consider me bewitched.”

Without preamble, he pressed his body flush against her softness and kissed her harder.

“I thought you were tired?” she muttered against his mouth, her tone richly playful.

He was—Maker, he was—but he was also flesh and blood. Cullen simpered and vaulted himself onto his knees in a fluid motion so he could begin unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she said excitedly, and it was his turn to look at her in alarm. “That was just…really sexy.”

He puffed in chest in pride. “Well, if you’d like, I could…” The idea seemed so preposterous, so outside of his comfort zone he couldn’t form the words. Luckily, her stunned expression indicated she’d caught on.

“It needs the right music, though,” she said, already scrolling songs through her phone. Then she set it back on her bedside table and when the familiar saxophone solo filled the room he balked.

_I feel so unsure…_

“You _can’t_ be serious,” he griped.

_As I take your hand, and lead you to the dance floor…_

“Come on, Cullen. Just once? For me?”

“To _this_?” Neb nodded and bit her bottom lip in glee. Andraste’s tears, for all she gave him he could never refuse her.

_As the music dies, something in your eyes…_

Cullen tilted his head and lowered his chin in his best impression of a smolder as he undid the first and second buttons.

“Go slower!”

_I’m never gonna dance again…_

“I’m trying.”

_Guilty feet have got no rhythm…_

“Sway your hips more!”

He caught a chuckle in his chest. As if he didn’t feel awkward enough! “Will you shut up and let me work, woman?”

_Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a fool…_

She laughed at his reproachful scorn. “I’m only teasing.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one teasing _you_?”

Neb shushed him. “Fine. Less talking. More stripping.”

Another button undone.

“Oh! Sing along to it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please? It’s in your range.”

“I don’t know all the words.”

“Just sing the ones you _do_ know!”

“… _So I’m never gonna dance again, the way I danced with yo_ —oh, Maker, I hate this song so much.”

“Keep going!”

She was laughing, but so was he. His neck burned hot from humiliation as he flung his shirt open, but the sheer delight on her bright face encouraged him further, heat pooling from the burn of her gaze. Pulling the shirt off each arm, he smirked at her and gripped the hem of his undershirt. He rolled his hips in a serpentine motion while he pulled it over his head. Graduate school robbed him of his exercise routine, and he felt a pang of shame at the loss of definition in his abdominals, in the quivering strain in his thighs from the effort to appear taut.

_Time can never mend…_

“Oh, Maker.” Neb drank him in, all wondrous smiles and joy. She didn’t seem to care.

_The careless whispers of a good friend…_

Feeling bold, he undid his belt and leapt off the bed to her bemusement. He flashed her another sly glance when he handed the buckle to her.

_To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind…_

Cullen backed away, letting the smooth leather slither from each loop until all that remained were his trousers. And oh, the _look_ on her face when he unfastened his zipper to flash her the cut of his hips. He forewent the embarrassment, the terrible music.

_Tonight the music seems so loud…_

Knowing how much he loved her made it easy. Neb made everything easy. With his back turned, he pulled down his pants with as much grace and balance as he could muster.

_I wish that we could lose this crowd…_

As infectious as her amusement could be, Cullen wanted more. He launched himself back on the bed, straddling her hips with a hard rut that wiped her smile away in place of attentive fascination. _Good._

Cullen buried his hand in her hair, tangling into the wavy strands to hold her in place so he could drag the flat of his tongue up the length of her neck. He took advantage of her surprise to glide himself between her legs once more and trace his free hand over the generous curve of her hip and onto her inner thigh.

_We could have lived this dance forever…_

“Cullen! Who taught you that one?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes shuttering.

“You did. Just now.” He said, allowing the pad of his thumb to circle her clit over the cloth and her back arched.

He wanted to watch her unravel beneath him. He wanted to see the tension break in her shoulders; feel her nails driving into his flesh and the hot puffs of breath from her parted mouth; count the beating pulsation in her throat. Sensations he’d burned into memory.

“I love you,” he said, her soft sigh bright in his ears.

_Please stay…_

Neb gasped when he pushed her underwear aside to brush his fingers against her, massaging fervently until her legs curled around his waist and her perfectly plucked brows knitted in pleasure. When she came undone her cries drowned out the song’s closing chorus and he couldn’t help but feel a hint of gratitude for it.

“I love you, too,” she whispered into the quiet, her voice muted in sated languor. He gently kissed her.

“Was that all right?”

“It was,” she nodded slightly. “I might need to ask you to do it again.”

“Oh no,” he protested, rolling into his back and taking her tumbling with him so she straddled his hips, her chestnut hair curtaining them both. The dancing drained him of what little energy he had, though he was more than happy to watch her powerful curves ride him out until his hands blanched on her thighs. “The agreement was for one time only. ‘I’m never gonna dance again.’”

Her eyes enlarged and she cackled once more.

Later, with their legs intertwined and their sweat-soaked skin cooled, Cullen held her to his chest in the dark and thanked the Maker for the freckles on her skin and the feel of her against him. Sleep still evaded him, however tired he was.

He couldn’t get that damned song out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I smiled gleefully while writing this today as I was serenaded by some smooth sax. I love these two so much. As usual, comments are appreciated.


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